Undertow
by forthecoast
Summary: undertow. noun. any strong current below the surface of a body of water, moving in a direction different from that of the surface current. AU: What if one decision changed everything, and what if it didn't? MS
1. Prologue

Title: Undertow  
Author: inelastic (spyglass)  
Rating: T for now, we'll deal with later when we get there...  
Disclaimer: Thou shalt not borrow permanently and without asking.  
Pairings: MS, ensemble love and a few others for good measure  
Category: Martin/Samantha, AU, mini-casefile, familyangst! Good times to be had by all (no, really)Spoilers: various vague and other not-so-vague spoilers through season 2, story starts the morning after 1x18 The Source  
Summary: _undertow_ (noun) -- any strong current below the surface of a body of water, moving in a direction different from that of the surface current.

Notes: I have absolutely no idea where the hell this came from. If you hate it, blame my art history professor. He is ridiculously boring, and I came up with the concept while daydreaming in his (four hour long!) lecture class from hell. ;)

I have a vague outline for where this story is going. Hang in with me and I promise everything will make more sense in a few chapters.

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_**prologue**_

xxxxx_  
_

_Time passes in moments - moments which, rushing past, define the path of a life, just as surely as they lead towards its end. How rarely do we stop to examine that path, to see the reasons why all things happen, to consider whether the path we take in life is our own making, or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed? But what if we could stop, pause to take stock of each precious moment before it passes? Might we then see the endless forks in the road that have shaped a life and, seeing those choices, choose another path?_

-Dana Scully, "The X-Files"

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_March 20, 2003  
Washington, DC  
8:30 pm_

Martin Fitzgerald loosened his tie with one hand, gripping his phone tighter with the other. Despite years of practice honing his ability to tune out politicians and businessmen alike, phone calls with his father never got any easier.

"... All I'm saying is that the whole city is in an uproar, and I think it would be good if you went to the service, son."

"I know, dad. I know!" He tried to avoid sound too exasperated, but it wasn't easy. It had been a long day in Senate committee, and all he really wanted to do was head back home and collapse on the sofa. "I was already planning on going. She was a great woman, and an important part of the community." He almost laughs, realizing he sounds more like he's speaking to a reporter - and not to his father.

"Alright. Well, listen, here's Agent Farrell to talk to be about an investigation we're running right now. I need to get to this."

"Okay, dad. Goodnight."

"Take care, son."

The second his office phone was resting in its proper place once again, Martin heaved a sigh of relief; to say that Victor Fitzgerald was a difficult father would be the understatement of the century. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he bent down to take another look at the newspaper article that lay on his desk.

_DELIA RIVERS PRESUMED DEAD AT THE HANDS OF KNOWN DRUG LORD_. The New York Times headline screamed out at him in big, bold letters, and he tried to focus on anything other than the headache he knew would be coming. He stared down at the picture of the young woman whose life had been cut tragically short and felt a wave of grief wash over him. There were few good people left in the world and she, he was sure, had been one of them. She had managed to prove a young man's innocence and get him off of death row, even after she herself had been murdered.

Martin only wished that the poor young man, Winston Bell, happened to belong to another state's judicial system. He was New York's new Junior Senator of only two months, and he wasn't entirely sure he was ready for something like this.

He finished reading the article for the fourth or fifth time that evening before folding it up and placing it in front pocket of his briefcase. He had a sinking feeling that this weekend was going to be a lot longer than he had been anticipating.

He glanced at the clock as he gathered his things from around his desk and flipped his cell phone open.

"Hey, Caro. You up for a visit from your obnoxious baby brother this weekend?"

xx

_New York City  
9:15 pm_

"I cannot _look_ at another report!" Special Agent Samantha Spade glanced up from her own paperwork, only to see her coworker Naomi Russell slam down her files in disgust.

The two women had been stuck in the office since 7:00 that morning, dealing with the phones that rang off the hook in the aftermath of Delia Rivers' death. SAC Jack Malone had taken a day's personal leave while their other team members, Vivian Johnson and Danny Taylor, had been detained in court for most of the morning before they could come in to help out.

Normally, Samantha would have appreciated a day in the office with the other young agent who had quickly become one of her closest friends since joining the team about six months ago. But days like today were far from quiet -- emotions were running high and no one was feeling particularly up to their tasks at hand.

"Ugh, me neither..." Sighing, she turned back to her friend. "You want to blow this place and grab a drink?"

"Only as long as you can keep up, Spade."

"I could drink you under the table, Russell," she retorted, but at the most unfortunate moment, as Danny and Viv were just returning from the file room.

"Now _this_ I have got to see."

"Who said you were invited?"

Sam and Vivian shared a mutual eye roll at this. It was no secret between the rest of the team that Danny was extremely interested in Naomi, but while she would return his banter, she seemed very wary about becoming involved. Not that Samantha could really blame her, she knew all too well how messy office romances could be. _Not a romance,_ she chided herself silently. _Definitely, definitely, not a romance._

"Okay, now I'm wounded."

"Do you always let the ladies know that you bruise so easily, Taylor?"

Sam coughed and motioned towards the elevators at the end of the hall. "If you're coming Danny, we're leaving now."

Though her tone of voice was slightly irritated, she was extremely grateful for the close camaraderie of her team. It had certainly not been easy when Jack had broken things off with her, harder still when she had learned of his separation from his wife. She heaved a sigh at her own musings as she saw Danny and Naomi heading down the hallway, their conversation obviously progressing to heated argument.

"You want to help me play referee? Or would you rather go home and play ref there?" At this, Vivian gave the first real laugh that had echoed the halls of the Missing Persons floor of the New York office in several days.

"Well, I could use a drink. Besides, I play ref at home all the time, and those two have nothing on my boys."

"You mean Reggie, or Marcus?"

"Oh, both."

It felt good to smile around the office again, she thought. It seemed more like months - not days - since they had shared their casual banter. But that thought fled from her mind almost as quickly as it entered; her eyes cast a long glance at the paperwork strewn in haphazard piles, catching the Times headline that stuck out from between two manila folders.

_DELIA RIVERS PRESUMED DEAD AT THE HANDS OF KNOWN DRUG LORD_.

She ran her index finger over the newsprint once before clutching her purse to her chest. Without another word, she turned to follow her colleagues towards the elevator and into the bitter New York cold.

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Love it? Hate it? Want to kill me yet? I'm already working on Chapter 3, so hang on for the ride...


	2. Chapter 1

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_**chapter one**_

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_but i don't have a hold on what is real  
though we can only try  
what is there to give or to believe?_

_i wanted a change, knowing all i could do was try  
i was looking for someone_  
--Sarah McLachlan, "Lost"

xx

_March 22, 2003  
7:35 am_

The Saturday morning of the memorial service dawned, rainy and dull.

_Well,_ Martin thought, _at least I don't think it can get any more cliché than this._

He stood by the window in the kitchen of his sister's home just outside the city, choosing to look out over the backyard where it was easier to ignore the Secret Service Agents who had become his constant companions. As much as he was dreading the service itself, he was glad he'd had the chance to get away this weekend. It hadn't been a trip anyone had been able to foresee, which meant the entire weekend bar the services this afternoon would be free for him to spend with his sister, his cousins, and their families.

"Anybody home in there?"

His older sister wrapped her robe tightly around herself as she called out in greeting, padding softly down the stairs.

"Morning, Caro. Are the little monsters still asleep?"

"Comatose, just like their daddy." Martin smiled. Tim and Caroline had met in medical school, and he had easily fit right into the family. He was now an attending in the Neonatal ICU at the same hospital where Caroline worked in the emergency room, and their daughters, Kelsey and Bridget, were now ages four and two respectively.

"What time did Tim get in last night?"

"I think around 1:00. Bridge woke up at 1:30 and needed to be changed, and I found him passed out in bed next to me. We're just lucky he didn't get called out again --"

Caroline didn't even try to stifle the yawn that escaped her lips as she joined her him in the kitchen, making a bee-line for the coffee pot.

"I can't believe they're still asleep," he exclaimed. His two nieces were nothing if not rambunctious and early risers.

"Well, _someone_ got held up by the press on their way here last night, and they insisted on waiting up until Uncle Marty got here, you know."

"They remind me so much of you and Becca when we were younger," he said, remembering how the two girls and been knee-deep scheming over a dress up bin when he had finally arrived the night before. Caroline was six years his senior, Rebecca just two years younger, and they had always been united by the common goal of tormenting their baby brother.

"Yeah, well, Becca and I did what we could." She paused to refill her coffee mug before joining him by the window. "Marty," she turned to look at him. "I want you to know that no matter how big and important you are - and how many Secret Service Agents you need - you will always, _always_ be the boy who taped his Star Trek marathon over my favorite episodes of Laverne and Shirley."

Martin grinned back sheepishly, glad that some things would never change.

xx

_10:20 am_

"Samantha?"

She registered the voice as a male's, but was still far too groggy to register its owner. She groaned.

"Samantha!"

The voice was louder, more insistent, and it was not helping her headache.

"Your phone, Samantha!"

_Shit._ Her hands fumbled across the nightstand, searching for her cell phone.

"Spade," she mumbled into the mouthpiece.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. Where the hell are you?" Naomi's voice greeted her.

"We don't have a case, do we? I thought Jack was going to get a team from VCU to cover call so we could all be there?"

"No, no. I was just out on a run and I passed by your place and you didn't answer. I wanted to make sure you weren't passed out in the bathroom or something --"

"Cute, but yeah, I'm fine. Just a headache. I told you, I can drink you under the table."

"So you've mentioned, Sam. So, I'm going to ask you again, where are you?"

_Come on, Naomi, you know where I am._ Details of the night before were coming back in pieces, and she was absolutely certain Naomi had seen exactly who she'd left with.

"Nice try, Russell. I'll see you later."

She snapped her phone shut without another word, heaving a sigh. She rubbed her temple, vowing that she would keep her barhopping activities to every other night at a minimum. The past two nights must be taking their toll on her liver.

_Danny and Naomi really **should** hook up,_ she mused. _If she can't get him in line, he's a lost cause._

"Samantha?" A voice she now knew as Eric Kellar's interrupted her thought process. She wrapped the sheet tighter around her naked chest, gratefully accepting the coffee he offered her. "This should help with the headache --"

"Thanks," she replied.

"You're going to the memorial service this afternoon?"

"The team is going," she nodded. It was all the explanation she cared to offer.

"I hear it's going to be quite the affair. Apparently, Senators Adair and Fitzgerald are both going to be there."

She nodded, again. This was by far the longest morning after chat they've ever had.

"Yeah, I heard that too. I should, uh, probably get ready to go."

She wrapped herself in the sheet, gathering her clothes from where they lay strewn on the floor and excusing herself to go change in the bathroom.

She re-emerged just five minutes later in the process of pulling her hair back and out of her face. She had hoped he would have moved out into the kitchen in that time, but no such luck.

"Will I see you again tonight?" he asked, almost expectantly.

Her body tensed as she spoke, "I don't know, Eric. I don't know."

With that, she pulled her coat back on and left him staring in her wake.

Once she was in the hallway, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her headache, she realized as she boarded the elevator, wasn't entirely alcohol-related. Jack and Maria had been separated for maybe eight months now, and nothing had changed. _And nothing is going to change,_ she told herself. _This has to end, and it has to end now. This is the last time you let yourself get wound up over Jack Malone_.

The elevator reached the ground floor, and she made her way out into the street and towards the subway station.

_You're nearly thirty years old,_ she told herself. _You cannot keep doing this to yourself._

_Okay, admit it. You just don't want to get that 'look' from Naomi again_.

At that, she laughed to herself and boarded the train heading back downtown.

xxxxx


	3. Chapter 2

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_**chapter two**_

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_of all the intersecting lines in the sand  
i routed a labyrinth to your lap  
i never used a map sliding off the land  
on an incidental tide,  
and along the way you know, they try  
they try_  
--The Shins, "Sea Legs"

xx

_March 22, 2003  
12:45 pm_

Martin was vaguely aware of the Senior Senator who was chatting beside him, rambling on and on about the fine dinner he and his wife had the privilege of attending the previous evening. Once again, he found himself grateful that as a child he had perfected the ability of smiling, nodding, and adding the occasional "Yes, of course" at just the right moment.

Senator Colin Adair was a pleasant man in his early 60's, and he sat beside his wife of nearly 35 years. Nancy rolled her eyes at Martin before patting her husband on the thigh. "I've got to excuse myself to the ladies' room, dear. Now do you think I can leave the two of you to your own devices and trust that you won't talk Senator Fitzgerald's ear off?" She walked off without waiting for his answer, but she had certainly done her job. Senator Adair fell silent, craning his neck to study his surroundings, much as Martin had found himself doing during the elder man's monologue.

"So, Martin, when are you going to find yourself a woman and settle down?"

Nancy Adair's work at quieting her husband apparently had a very short lifespan.

Martin groaned, "You sound like my sisters."

"Your sisters are wise women."

"Please do me a favor and never tell _them_ that. I'll never hear the end of it." He laughed and turned his focus back towards the front of the church. "It will happen when the time is right."

Martin braced himself for his colleague's remarks at this, advising him that the time should get right soon, that he was nearly 32 years old and being single in their line of work never got anyone anywhere, but they never came. This was mainly because Nancy Adair had returned, announcing her presence as she leaned in to her husband to say "So, what did I miss?"

As Colin turned to face his wife, Martin allowed himself to scan the pews in front of him once again. He turned towards the side door at the front of the church, hearing it open, and was glad that both Colin and Nancy were otherwise engaged in conversation. All of the air immediately left his lungs as the most beautiful woman he was sure he'd ever seen stood at the front of the church, eyes scanning the crowds, apparently looking for someone.

Her blonde hair stood out against her dark coat, and her gaze finally landed about four rows in front of where he sat, on a tall Latino man who stood as she approached. The other man leaned in to whisper something in her ear as she made her way into the pew, and the woman made a casual gesture as though she were slapping him. She motioned to a petite dark-haired woman, sliding past her and sitting down between that woman and the other petite black woman who sat to her right. The blonde began chatting animatedly with the woman to her right, obviously blatantly ignoring the two to her left for one reason or another.

Martin wanted to inquire as to who the beautiful woman was, he was certain if anyone were to know it would be his elder colleague, but his pulse was still thready and his breathing still somewhat uneven. He did, however, manage to catch a snippet of Colin's rambling that immediately caught his attention.

"... and I think up there that's Paula Van Doren with Jack Malone and his team. It's such a shame that they couldn't find the body, but what can you do? ..."

Martin continued to listen intently, but to no avail as Colin was simply giving his wife a crash course in all of the people that she might not recognize who happened to be attending the services.

His mind went immediately back to the beautiful blonde woman who was apparently on Jack Malone's team. As the church fell silent and the gathering music began to play, he watched as she craned her neck to look at what he assumed was the organ in the back.

_Yes,_ he decided after cautiously sneaking another glance at her face, _she's definitely the most beautiful woman I've ever seen_.

xx

_2:10 pm_

Martin had to admit that the service, when he'd been paying attention, had been beautiful.

That being said, he had paid very little attention to the service itself, his mind preoccupied with a certain blonde who sat just rows in front of him. He chastised himself casually for letting him get so taken by a woman he'd likely never even speak to. After all, she was probably just like every other woman he'd dated since announcing his campaign for Senate the year previous -- shallow, empty, and completely and entirely vapid.

He repeated this to himself over and over as he carefully made his way to the edge of the crowds and beyond to a small area of woods that stood at the end of the cemetery where the memorial for Delia Rivers had just been blessed.

So preoccupied was he with his own thoughts and musings that he did not realize that he was not, in fact, as alone as he had presumed.

xx

_"Samantha!" seven year old Lindsey Spade called out. "Sam, where are you!?"_

_Five year old Samantha kept quiet, completely intent on her task at hand._

_"Oh Sam! There you are!" Lindsey bent down to wrap her arms around her little sister. "We were so worried about you! What are you doing?" She asked, finally inspecting the scene around her._

_Samantha was down on her hands and knees, digging in the dirt in the forest clearing._

_"I'm going to find Dad all by myself," she announced proudly, her eyes never leaving the ground before her._

_"What do you mean, Sammy?"_

_"Mom said that Dad wasn't coming back, just like she said Gramma isn't coming back." Samantha motioned back towards the path that led there from the church. "But when I find where they put Daddy," she turned her small body back to the hole that she had begun to dig in the ground, "I know he'll come back to us. Then he can take us to the zoo like he promised!"_

_"Samantha," Lindsey started, "Dad and Gramma, they're not the same. You're not going to find him here."_

_"Why not, Linds? Doesn't he love us anymore?"_

_Lindsey Spade stood up and dusted herself off, motioning for her sister to do the same. She wrapped her arm around Samantha's shoulders and turned to catch her eyes, which were still focused on the very small hand-made hole in the ground before them._

_"I love you, Sam. And Mom loves you. We have each other and that's all that matters."_

_Samantha's big brown eyes stared back, finally, trusting her older sister implicitly. "Always?"_

_"Absolutely."_

_The day they buried their grandmother was same day Samantha had first realized that her father would never be coming home. And, surprisingly enough, it didn't seem to matter._

Twenty-four years later, a much older, much more embittered woman bearing the same name stood in a small clearing of trees, wondering when it had all gone wrong.

She didn't hear the footsteps as another body padded softly through the leaves along the edge of the clearing, but her senses jumped to alert when she heard this other body begin to cough, as though he was clearing his throat.

He jumped as well, clearly not aware that he had company.

"Crap! I'm sorry! I thought I was alone."

She turned to look at the man who had intruded on her quiet moment, suddenly realizing that this wasn't just any man at whom she had just nearly drawn her gun. She found herself face to face with none other than new Senator Martin Fitzgerald, the son of the Deputy Director.

_Wow,_ she thought. _He looks even better in person than on television._ And then immediately chided herself for such thoughts. He was speaking to her again, and she was missing what he was saying entirely.

"Hi," he stuttered just a little, and she wondered if maybe he was nervous at being away from his security detail. "I'm, uh, I'm Mart--"

"I know who you are, Senator Fitzgerald," she found his nervousness endearing and smiled at him, trying to reassure him that she wasn't some crazed terrorist. "I voted for you, after all."

He seemed to be considering her words, then finally offered his right hand. "Please, it's Martin."

"Samantha," she said, reaching her hand out to shake his, "Samantha Spade." She felt her cheeks flush at the contact, and was suddenly very glad that the trees overhead provided some degree of shade.

She could feel the wheels in his head turning as he was undoubtedly making the mental connection.

"I know what you're thinking..." she started, but she didn't manage to complete her thought as he interrupted her.

"So I was right!? You _are_ David Spade's sister, then?"

She couldn't help but laugh and smile up at him. _Not a bad smile, either_, she thought to herself as he grinned back.

"_Senator Fitzgerald_," she began, not entirely sure why she was teasing him with his proper title. "I have a feeling that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

The moment was broken when an incessant buzzing started echoing from her coat pocket, she smiled apologetically as she flipped her phone open.

"Spade"

She couldn't hear anything but static on the other end.

"Spade!" she repeated, this time more insistently. She sighed in frustration, unable to pick up the signal. She turned back to face Martin; she could feel him watching her intently. "It's my boss," she wasn't sure why she was explaining herself. "I should, uh, I should get back."

"Walk with you?" he inquired, and she nodded in affirmation, not really wanting to leave just yet.

He fell easily into step beside her, and she was surprised at how comfortable it felt to walk in silence with Martin Fitzgerald.

They reached the edge of the woods in no time at all and were greeted immediately by several members of the Secret Service, all of whom jumped immediately to aim their weapons at Samantha.

"It's alright, Dennis! Stand down!" She heard Martin call out beside her, but the three agents made no move to let them pass. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

"I'm Special Agent Spade, I'm FBI," she decided she might as well use her status to her advantage. "If it's alright, I'm just going to get out my badge?" She looked over to the one Martin had called 'Dennis'. When he nodded, she reached into her back pocket, pulling out her badge and tossing it forward.

After over a minute's careful inspection, Dennis seemed to buy her story. He motioned for the two other guards to stand down and stepped forward to giver her badge back.

She wanted to turn and say something to Martin, but before she got a chance she heard Jack calling her name as he walked quickly towards the scene they had caused at the edge of the cemetery.

"Sam!" He was flanked by Danny on one side and Vivian on the other. "We've got one!"

"You're kidding me, right? Can't Pruitt's team take it?"

"Francis Caldwell, 25, last seen last night in the reference section of the Law School Library. Security cameras have her entering the library at 5:47 pm, no footage of her leaving..." Martin watched surreptitiously as the black woman rattled off facts before pausing, apparently pondering something. "Hey Sam, where's Naomi? We figured she'd be with you."

"Yeah, and wait 'till she hears about the scene you just caused. She'll be so disappointed!" the Latino man exclaimed. Martin couldn't help but crack a smile when Samantha shoved the man before retorting.

"Excuse me for not keeping constant tabs on _your_ girlfriend!"

Dennis, his chief of security, and the other agents made motions as though they were ready to get moving, but Martin didn't want to leave without at least saying 'goodbye.'

"Samantha!" He called out, and her entire team turned to look in his direction.

She stepped forward before answering. "Yes?"

"It was nice to meet you." _Lame_, he told himself. _Very, very lame_. But what could he do? They had quite the audience at this point between her team and his security detail.

"You, too." She smiled back at him and he hoped his cheeks didn't flush too much.

He turned to leave and she immediately turned back to her team.

"So you're thinking the same guy who got Jennifer McClure and Carrington Culthburt?" she asked the other three.

As Martin made his way back to the cars that were parked at the end of the street, he thought he saw the dark-haired woman who had been in the pews with them during the services making her way back over to the group. As she passed, she got the distinct impression that she had been crying, but dismissed the notion as he watched her re-unite with the team. It seemed that the Latino man had told a joke, likely about what had just happened as he saw the other man laugh along with other two woman, while Samantha simply shrugged her shoulders.

Martin climbed into the vehicle in front of him, trying to escape the strange feeling that was settling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the beautiful blonde woman fade into the distance as the car pulled away.

xxxxx


	4. Chapter 3

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_**chapter three**_

xxxxx

_we are bedrock, we're underground, we are sharp as the rain  
we are gathering pace, we are thunder wrapped in cellophane  
we are running from the storms of our youth into more of the same_  
-Thea Gilmore, "Inverigo"

xx

_Washington, DC  
April 4, 2003  
6:40 pm_

Two weeks later, Martin found himself once again in his office late at night reading a New York Times headline. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the story on the bottom right-hand corner of the front page: _FBI CATCHES SERIAL RAPIST AT LAW SCHOOL_.

Once again, he turned to the inside pages of the newspaper and gazed earnestly at the photograph of the two FBI agents who had risked their lives by going in on a sting operation to draw out the rapist and kidnapper. Martin recognized both women, of course, from the memorial service just two weekends prior: the petite dark-haired woman whom the caption identified as Special Agent Naomi Russell, and the slightly taller blonde woman who had been haunting his dreams every night. Samantha.

He hadn't even spent ten minutes with her, but he was certainly taken. He found it refreshing that she acknowledged who he was but didn't fall all over herself because of it. It had been so long since anyone had given him that courtesy; he hadn't even bothered going on dates with anyone since he'd announced his candidacy for the open Senate seat the previous year. After watching his two sisters both happily married, it seemed pointless to go out with women who were only interested in his rising status in society.

Societal status was not why he had finally decided to go into politics. It was more an unfortunate side effect that he was slowly learning to deal with.

Martin had her number written on a post-it note in the top drawer of his desk, it hadn't been hard to track down once he put his connections to use, but he hadn't yet gathered up the courage to call her. _Someone that beautiful_, he told himself sternly, _definitely has a significant other of some sort._ Although at times he would remind himself that he hadn't noticed a ring.

But still, he couldn't bring himself to call her. He wanted to, but what would the use be, even if she happened to be single by some stroke of luck?

"Senator Fitzgerald?" His secretary, Beverly, knocked on his door before entering. "Your aunt is holding for you on line B."

"Thanks," he smiled, glad for the interruption. "And Beverly?"

"Yes?"

"It's time to call it a night. Go home, I'll be fine finishing up here on my own."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Of course. Go pick up your daughter from the airport, it'll be a nice surprise for her."

Beverly was an older woman of almost 60, and she had been talking non-stop all week about her only daughter coming home from college for the weekend. The flight was due to get in at Dulles at 8:00, according to the memo he had seen lying on her desk.

"Thank you, sir. Have a good weekend!"

He nodded at her as she left, then hit the 'talk' button on his office phone.

"Hey, Aunt Bonnie!"

"Hey, Marty. How are things down there in Washington?"

"Same old, same old. If you think CSPAN is interesting, the live show is about twenty times better."

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh, let's not talk about that."

"You seem kind of down, sweetheart. Are you doing okay?" Martin could fool thousands of people every day, but never his aunt.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just wish I were doing something more to help people instead of spending time here just talking about it." He signed audibly, and Bonnie took her time before responding.

"Are you regretting it?"

"I don't know. I mean, I know I can do more for people here than I could when I was working out of the Dalton Corporation." He was referring to the business he had done independent financial consulting for before he had started into politics as was always the plan.

"Things will get easier, Marty. After all, it hasn't even been three months. You can't save the world in three months, sweetheart, no matter how much you want to."

Trust Aunt Bonnie to put things in perspective, even if only a little.

_The summer Martin was four years old, he decided he would learn how to swim. He had spent most of June and July at his aunt and uncle's, and he had felt so jealous of his sisters and older cousin Jamie when they went to the neighborhood pool._

_Uncle Roger had been skeptical, not sure if he was quite ready yet. But Aunt Bonnie made it her own personal project. Every morning, she took him to the pool right as it opened so that they would be the only people there. It took him three weeks of nearly constant trying, but he finally managed to take a few strokes on his own._

_By the time he and his sisters went to join their parents at their summer home in Martha's Vineyard, he was very proficient at a four year old's version of the dog paddle, and to him, he might as well have been trained and ready for the Olympics. Bonnie and Roger had driven them up to meet their parents, and would be spending the weekend with the Fitzgeralds before returning home, as Bonnie and Roger both had to work on Monday._

_That Friday evening, while the three girls built a castle with Roger's architectural advice, Martin and Aunt Bonnie headed straight for the ocean._

_Four year old Martin, so excited to surprise his parents with what he'd learned, ran into the water until it came up to his shoulders and then immediately fell over. Bonnie, following close at his heels, immediately scooped him up, and he spit the salty water out of his mouth in disgust and embarrassment._

_"Hey there, buddy? Why so fast?"_

_Martin coughed again and wrapped his arms around Aunt Bonnie's neck. "What was that?"_

_"That was the undertow, Martin. It's really strong, and you have to be careful or else it will sweep you out to sea. You can be careful, right?"_

_Martin nodded._

_"Okay, then. Let's go!"_

_She took his arms from around her neck and pushed him back into the water. He took a few strokes, and then looked back at her for reassurance. She smiled and stepped along with him, guiding him until he felt comfortable to paddle around on his own._

_He couldn't see his parents back on the shore and didn't know to look, but from their chairs perched on the beach, Victor and Lydia Fitzgerald were beaming._

"So, enough about me," Martin said finally. "How's Ava?"

Bonnie Toland was all smiles and laughs about her only granddaughter, Jamie's little girl who was just five months old.

Twenty minutes later, aunt and nephew said their goodbyes before hanging up the phone. It was only then that Martin noticed his cell phone had managed to vibrate itself off of his desk.

He bent down to pick it up, flipping it open only to discover that in half an hour, he had missed 12 calls from his sister and his mother.

_This cannot possibly be good,_ he thought to himself as he pressed the preset speed dial to his sister's cell.

xx

_New York City  
7:30 pm_

Samantha sat in the corner booth at Starbuck's, nursing her second vanilla latte as Naomi sat across from her, looking at her own mug as though it were the most interesting thing in the entire world.

The two had been graciously given the day off after six straight days of undercover work in a sting operation to catch the serial kidnapper and rapist who had taken three different young law students in the course of five weeks. After sleeping in until noon, Samantha had answered her messages and made plans to meet Naomi later. It had been a long time since she had a girlfriend her own age, maybe since college, and she had to admit that it felt good.

"So," Naomi finally started, staring up from her mocha, "When, exactly, were you planning on telling me about what happened with that Senator two weeks ago?"

"I keep telling you: nothing happened!"

"Nothing? So you didn't get harassed by his security detail and I'm blind and Danny made it all up?"

Samantha groaned. "Please, don't remind me. That was humiliating."

"Okay, then why don't you tell me the whole story?"

"There's nothing to tell! I went wandering because I needed to clear my head, and the next thing I knew, there he was. We talked for a few minutes, and then I got Jack's call. That was it."

"That's it?" Naomi raised her eyebrow expectantly, "He's also in politics, which means he's probably just your type. You know? Selfish, self-absorbed, insensitive..."

"Enough, enough!" Sam groaned. "That is _not_ my type!"

"No need to get so defensive, Sam. But you can't prove me wrong, I've met Kellar, remember?"

"If you're so ready to give out dating advice, how come I haven't heard about any dates in the entire seven months I've known you, then?"

"That's my prerogative." She obviously either did not want to answer or would not be deterred from her original purpose. "What's your excuse?"

"Does it really matter? I mean, chances are I'll never actually see him again unless it's on CSPAN." She paused, considering her words carefully before she added, "And besides, he didn't seem like _'my type'_ at all. I'd bet that he's going to want the 2.2, white picket fence, golden retriever deal, and you know that's not me."

"2.2, white picket fence, golden retriever? Wait, so he was actually - dare I say it - _nice_?" Naomi was definitely enjoying herself.

"Yeah, yeah he was," Sam stuttered, thinking to herself that 'nice' didn't quite seem adequate. She figured it was nothing, that her mind was playing tricks on her, but she couldn't get their short meeting out of her head. She kept telling herself that it was all in her imagination and that she should stop, she was never going to see him in person again. But she couldn't seem to shake the memory of his smile ...

"And there isn't a guy out there who could change your mind about that?"

_About what?_, she silently cursed herself for getting distracted. _Oh, the 'marriage' thing. Of course..._

"Not for me, not in this world," she finally answered. "What about you?"

She watched as her friend visibly tensed, and regretted making her feel so obviously uncomfortable that she lost her normal G-woman cool.

"I was, uh, I was married once. It, it ended... badly."

That was obviously all that she wanted to share, and Samantha couldn't blame her. She, too, understood what that felt like. She nodded and reached across the table to pat Naomi's arm reassuringly. The two women sat in silence for several minutes before a familiar ring echoed above the din of the coffee shop.

"Russell -"

But Samantha didn't get a chance to overhear the conversation as her own phone rang almost immediately after.

"Spade"

"Sam?"

"Oh. Hey, Viv"

"I hate to do this to you, I know Jack told you to take this weekend, but we're... we're going to need you."

"Another case come in?"

"Yeah, two young girls were snatched from St. Michael's Emergency Room earlier this afternoon." Vivian paused, and Sam felt a sinking feeling lodge itself in the pit of her stomach that should couldn't quite place.

"What is it, Viv?"

"Sam, the girls who were taken... it's Kelsey and Bridget Byrne."

"You don't mean --?" Samantha felt herself gasp and couldn't finish her own question.

"Unfortunately yes, I do. The Deputy Director's granddaughters."

xxxxx


	5. Chapter 4

xxxxx

_**chapter four**_

xxxxx

_hold on  
hold on to yourself  
for this is gonna hurt like hell_  
--Sarah McLachlan, "Hold On"

xx

_7:50 pm_

_2 hours missing_

"Excuse me," Samantha cut in front of the line to speak immediately to the man at the registration desk. "I'm Special Agent Spade, this is Special Agent Russell. We're with the FBI, can you point us --"

Samantha never got to finish her sentence though, as the glass doors to the emergency room rushed open and Danny motioned them inside. "They're with me," he waved casually at the registration desk. The volume of unaware patients in the waiting room groaned, but the man behind the registration desk didn't even look up.

"Oh, great. So we know security at this end is tight." Naomi was clearly unimpressed, and she wasn't the only one.

"Yeah, he's a real winner," Danny said, motioning back towards registration. "Anyway, so far I haven't found too much. The girls' nanny dropped them off here at 5:00 like she always does on Fridays, usually they play in the staff lounge for an hour or so until one of their parents finishes. People are in and out of the lounge all the time, charge nurse noticed them missing at about 5:50."

"Have you talked to the parents?" Naomi asked. "Victor Fitzgerald is going to be all over this."

"I haven't. Dad's apparently out of town presenting at a medical conference, mom has been franticly running around since I got here."

"Lockdown procedure?"

"Apparently, they followed protocol down here in the ER, but it was to late. They were already gone. We've got a team on the security footage right now, but nothing so far."

"Hello?"

The three turned around as a blonde-haired woman in purple scrubs made her way towards them.

"I'm Joanne, they told me you were brought in to help find Caro's girls."

Sam nodded. "I'm Special Agent Spade, this is Special Agent Russell and Special Agent Taylor. We're with the FBI. Were you the one who first discovered they were missing?"

"I am."

Naomi tapped Sam on the shoulder. "Excuse us, we're going to check back in with security to see if anything has turned up on the cameras."

After Danny and Naomi left, Sam and Joanne moved to a slightly quieter area of the emergency room, although given the state of chaos that surrounded them, that was easier said than done.

"I just, I can't believe I let this happen!"

"This wasn't your fault," Sam tried to reassure her.

"I usually keep an eye on them when they're here on Fridays. Their dad, Tim, usually finishes evening rounds at about 5:30 and will come down and get them. They'll go across the street to the diner to wait for Caroline. But Tim is in Philadelphia this weekend presenting at CHOP -- Children's Hospital of Philadelphia," Joanne explained, noticing the confused look on Sam's face.

"Has anyone been able to get in touch with their father?"

"Not that I know of. I just ... I should have been watching them more closely."

"You noticed them missing at about 5:50, right?" Joanne nodded. "When was the last time you saw them?"

"It was about 5:15 --"

_"Aunt Jo!" Kelsey squealed happily from her place on the sofa in the lounge. "Look what I did at school today!"_

_Joanne shut the door behind her as she made her way into the lounge to grab something - anything - to eat for dinner while she had the chance. Friday nights were usually busy, but today the waiting room was nothing if not just short of a mob scene._

_Kelsey scooted down to where her school bag sat, taking out her day's artwork and holding it out with unsteady hands._

_"Oh, that's beautiful Kels. Did you draw this for your dad for when he gets home?"_

_"Nope. I drew it for Uncle Marty - Mommy says he gets lonely at his house. Daddy won't be lonely when he comes home because he's got us."_

_"And what are you up to, Bridget?"_

_The two year old didn't look up from her coloring book, where she was hard at work coloring over a picture of Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. In purple crayon._

_"Bridget! That's not how you're **supposed** to do it!" Kelsey exclaimed indignantly before turning back to Joanne. "She hasn't taken art class at school yet," she stated, as though that clearly explained everything._

_Joanne moved to the fridge, taking out her yogurt and a spoon. This was going to have to do for now._

_"W'as that?" Bridget asked, looking up from her now entirely purple-streaked page._

_"Yogurt. You want some?" She held the spoon out near the toddler's face._

_"Eww! No!" Bridget giggled._

_"Good, because your mom would kill me if I spoiled your dinner." She ruffled both girls' hair._

_Just then, she heard a loud 'thud' and a flurry of activity coming from right outside. She opened the door to reveal a middle-aged man lying in a pool of his own blood._

_Joanne dropped her yogurt on the counter and shut the door as fast as she could, trying to prevent the small girls' curious eyes from the scene that was collecting outside of their safe haven._

"I should have told them to stay put, that I would be right back," she lamented. Samantha squeezed her arm reassuringly.

"Did you notice anyone hovering around when you left? Anyone who looked suspicious?"

"You can't get into the lounge without the code. But I wasn't really paying attention -- our GI bleeder in 16 had just dropped his H and H to 5 and 19."

Samantha nodded, although she had absolutely no idea what that meant.

"Security was there, but I think my nursing student called them."

"Thank you, Joanne. You've been very helpful. If you think of anything else," she said, giving her a card, "please don't hesitate to contact me."

"Of course."

"Can you point me in the direction of Dr. Byrne?"

"Dr. Fitzgerald," Joanne corrected. "It'd be too complicated if they were both Dr. Byrne," she went on, and began to motion to the back hall of the ER. "She's over there talking to Dr. Gibson. She must be signing out."

One look at the two women in that direction, and Samantha knew exactly which one was Caroline Byrne. _Fitzgerald_, she corrected herself. The family resemblance was uncanny.

"Thank you, again."

Before she could make her way over to speak to the girls' mother, Danny and Naomi returned from security.

"Anything?"

"Nothing on any small children matching their descriptions leaving the area through the ER," Naomi started.

"They were last seen in the staff lounge at about 5:15 or 5:20, but there were no signs of anyone forcing their way into the lounge. So either the girls left the lounge on their own, or the person who took them had access."

"Is security getting us a list?"

"Already on it," Danny nodded. "We just talked to Jack, who said that Victor Fitzgerald is on his way here and barking out orders. Naomi is going to talk to the nanny, I was going to stay here to talk to a few more people and see what else turns up. Jack wants you to bring Caroline down to the office to talk to Vivian, see if we can get the mother-to-mother aspect to work in our favor. And 'Daddy Dearest' lands in twenty minutes."

"So when Victor Fitzgerald jumps, the rest of us mere mortals cower in the corner." Naomi's voice was laced with sarcasm.

"Yes, and you two should change into more professional cowering clothes ASAP. I don't want him criticizing your wardrobe on top of everything else that I'm sure he's going to have issues with."

Samantha looked down at her jeans and, for the first time since she'd gotten Vivian's call, realized that she and Naomi were still dressed as civilians.

_Damnit_, she thought. _Tonight cannot possibly get any worse._

xx

_8:40 pm_

Samantha sighed as she studied the information on the DOD board, knowing instinctively that this was one case they could not afford to have go cold.

"I'm sorry I had to drag you in on your weekend off," she heard Jack come up behind her. "I hope I didn't drag you away from a hot date."

She shrugged, and it didn't sting nearly as much as it would have just a few weeks ago. It was really none of his business what she had been doing.

"It's fine. We haven't gotten a ransom call yet, have we?"

"No, but I think that's the angle we should work this as until we get anything that makes us think differently."

"Their parents are both doctors, though. Danny was going to ask around to see if there were any patients who may have had a motive."

Jack nodded, turning away from her to face the white board. "Phone records look pretty clear too, nothing that would indicate an affair on either parent's end."

"So we've got absolutely nothing yet, great." Sam moved back to her desk, going over the notes she had taken while talking to Joanne.

"Just be glad that you're not the one who has to look Victor Fitzgerald in the eye and tell him we have no viable leads as of yet," Jack put his hand on her shoulder before moving back into his office. She was, at that point, so distracted by her notes that she didn't even notice him leave.

Maybe five minutes later, Vivian and Caroline returned from the room down the hall where they had been talking. "If you can just wait here for a few minutes, I'm going to go talk to Agent Spade," she turned to see Vivian motion to the empty lounge before heading back to the bullpen.

"Did you get anything, Viv?"

"Mom says she sees countless patients from the ER who might have a grudge against her, mainly addicts who don't get what they want. Nothing substantial to go on, though. And I heard from Naomi, she said the nanny didn't notice anything unusual or suspicious but had said she would call if anything came to mind." Vivian stopped at her desk before turning around, "What about you?"

"I just can't get something that the charge nurse mentioned to me about how close the girls are with their uncle. The phone records I've looked at back that up. I don't know if it means anything, but if what she said is true and he _is_ close to Caroline and her family... What if this isn't about the girls being Victor Fitzgerald's grandchildren at all --" Sam's voice rose as she allowed the reality of her words to sink in. "What if this was some group who wanted revenge on Senator Fitzgerald?"

"Are you thinking a group who was opposed to his election, or more a group that would have gotten angry because of how he's come out strong on death penalty reform since Delia Rivers and Winston Bell?"

"It could be either," she paused, considering her words and the fact that she was talking to Vivian. "We might have to find a way to talk to Senator Fitzgerald, see what he knows."

"Well don't go buying a plane ticket to DC just yet, Sam. It seems Victor Fitzgerald has decided to bring Washington to _us_." At Vivian's words, she finally looked up from her desk to see the Deputy Director and a woman who must be his wife stepping quickly down the halls of the Federal Building. She couldn't make out Martin's form behind his father's looming profile, but knew that she definitely recognized the three men who walked to the side of the group.

Upon entering the bullpen, the party fanned out and Caroline, hearing the commotion, jumped up from where she was seated in the lounge. Samantha watched as Caroline moved immediately to her mother, finally letting go and clinging to her. Mrs. Fitzgerald rubbed her daughter's arm and whispered soothing words that Sam couldn't quite make out.

It was Victor who broke the momentary silence, seemingly unsure of any way to comfort his daughter and instead applying the all-professional approach. He stepped forward to shake Vivian's hand. "Agent Johnson, this is my wife Lydia and our son Martin, and this," he motioned towards the three men who stood just off to one side, "is Dennis, Mike, and Lou. They're Secret Service, I hope that won't be a problem."

It was a statement, not a question, and Vivian simply nodded. Victor then turned to Samantha, and with a look that told her he _knew_, began, "And you must be Agent Sp--"

But he never finished, as Dennis suddenly piped up, "Agent Spade, of course! We've met before."

Caroline and Lydia both turned to stare at Dennis, while Sam watched Victor's gaze flicker from Martin to herself and back again. Martin simply shrugged his shoulders, giving her a slight smile.

_Well,_ she mused. _You were the one who thought tonight couldn't get any worse._

A ring broke out in the otherwise quiet room, and she was absolutely certain she'd never been more relieved to be interrupted by her cell phone.

xxxxx


	6. Chapter 5

xxxxx

_**chapter five**_

xxxxx

_be still my heart  
engine turning over won't you start?  
this one's come to tear me all apart  
be still my heart_  
-Mirah, "Engine Heart"

xx

_8:50 pm_

_3 hours missing_

"Spade," she uttered cautiously, aware that all eyes in the room were focused on her.

"Hey hot stuff, how're things at your end of town?"

Samantha rolled her eyes, and Vivian mouthed "Danny?" as Sam shook her head in amusement.

"Please tell me you're calling with a lead?"

"I've forwarded a couple of video files from hospital security. It looks like whoever took the girls was definitely a member of the security staff, someone who's relatively new. Name's Heather Meekins, she wasn't on duty today. It looks like she changed their clothes and put hats on them, which must have been how they got out of the ER unnoticed. We've got them on security footage leaving from the main entrance at 6:02."

"You want me to put out an APB on the vehicle?"

"Nope, I've got Naomi back here with me, and she's already on it. It's a black Ford Focus."

"Great. You'll call me if anything else comes up?"

"Of course."

"And Danny?"

"Yes, dear," he said, in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"Play nice, okay?"

"Don't I always?"

"That's _exactly_ what I worry about."

"We're going to finish up here, see if we can find anything else before heading back to the office. I want to see if anyone noticed Heather Meekins hanging around this afternoon. Tell Jack we'll be in touch."

"Sure"

Samantha closed her cell phone, immediately turning to Viv and trying to ignore the fact that the entire Fitzgerald family was still standing right there.

"Any news?" Vivian asked.

"Can you call tech down? Danny's forwarding hospital security video that we're going to need to look at, and I've got to put out a request for more phone records."

Both agents quickly turned to the phones at their desks.

"Do we have a suspect?" Victor Fitzgerald's voice demanded as Samantha placed her phone back in its receiver.

She braced herself. "Dr. Fitzgerald?" she asked.

"Please, call me Caroline." Sam noticed that Martin stepped in line with his sister and his mother, bending down to squeeze Caroline's hand.

"Do you know a woman named Heather Meekins?"

Caroline thought for a moment before answering, "I don't think so... no."

"Are you sure? She works in security at St. Michael's."

"I, uh, I don't know. ER security turns over every couple of weeks. It's possible..."

Samantha glanced up at Vivian, who nodded in approval, before turning to face Victor and Martin. "And the name doesn't sound familiar to either of you?"

"What are you implying?" Victor barked at her.

"Sir, we have to investigate every possibility," Vivian soothed. "It will give us our best shot of finding the girls as soon as possible."

The air went stiff as Vivian almost introduced the possibility that Kelsey and Bridget would not be found.

Lydia Fitzgerald finally spoke up. "Victor," she admonished. "Please, don't make this any harder than it already is."

His face visibly softened, and he said "No, no. I don't remember anyone by that name."

"I don't, either." Martin added.

At that moment, Jack emerged from his office as the fax machine by the main table lit up and started printing. "That should be the phone records now, Sam." He said, apparently unaware of their recent arrivals.

"That was pretty fast," she said suspiciously, picking up the few pieces of paper that had printed up.

"Well, that would be because 'Heather Meekins' didn't have a phone line until about two months ago."

"Fascinating," Vivian said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Isn't it, though?"

Victor cleared his throat. "Agent Malone -- may I have a word?" Jack looked up and motioned to his office; Victor followed.

"Why don't the rest of you go back to the lounge to wait. Make yourselves as comfortable as you can, and we'll be in to talk to you when we have any more information." Samantha spoke as she led the group back towards the lounge. "I don't want you to worry -- we're going to do everything in our power to find them."

With that, she turned on her heals and tried not to look at the family who sat there, paralyzed with fear. Though she couldn't escape the image of Lydia as she wrapped her arms around her grown daughter, and Martin, who sat to one side, looking as completely helpless as she felt.

xx

_9:35 pm_

Martin entered what he assumed was the break room, still in a bit of a daze. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and he knew it was more than the sheer volume of coffee he had consumed that day.

He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, twisting the cap open and bringing the bottle to his lips. The water felt cool and refreshing on his throat, and he leaned back against the counter.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. After all, just that afternoon he had been desperate for a way to see Samantha again, but he had been thinking more along the lines of dinner and casual conversation. The thought of Kelsey and Bridget being out there, somewhere, terrified and alone, scared him more than he cared to admit.

The click of heels against the tile floor interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see Samantha approaching him.

"Senator Fitzgerald," her tone was cautious, and his title sounded far too formal and stilted coming from her lips. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

He nodded. "Of course. And I told you before, it's Martin."

She mustered a half-smile that he easily returned, and the two sat down at the table facing each other.

"You have a close relationship with your sister and her children, right?" She started.

"Yes, I do. My family is all I have." He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the tight sensation that seemed to be stuck there. "I'm Bridget's godfather," he added, deciding that fact was somehow important.

"And most people who are around you would know that, correct?"

"I would hope people don't think the artwork I hang in my office is _mine_," he quipped, and he noticed that her eyes sparkled just a little when she laughed. "But yes, I would think that I've been fairly obvious that we're close."

_Martin felt the cool November air against his face as he shut the car door behind himself. He had noticed the media frenzy that had collected in front of his campaign headquarters almost before he had seen them, the commotion they were causing could be heard from blocks away._

_He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the reporters would want to question him about his newly-won position: the previous day had been Election Day, and he had defeated his opponent, Richard Lambert, by a definitive margin for the open New York Senate seat._

_"Mr. Fitzgerald!" One reporter called out, "How does it feel to be the youngest Senator elect in over two decades?"_

_"What are your thoughts on military action in the Middle East?"_

_"Sir, what can you tell us about your plans for the next six years?"_

_And finally, he heard a question that he actually felt up to answering._

_"Sir, I have to say that you are wearing a rather unusual tie. Does it mean something to you?"_

_The rest of the reporters went instantly silent, as Martin turned down to finger his tie. It was pale pink, and had an image of Piglet sitting in the bottom right-hand side. He looked back up at the middle-aged female journalist who had directed the question at him. "Actually, yes. I've been reading 'Winnie the Pooh' with my niece, Kelsey, and she picked it out for me. She told me that I could wear it for luck after I won because 'it's hard to be brave when you're a very small animal.'"_

_He could pick out the parents from the crowd that had gathered, as they were the ones who laughed knowingly._

_"Your niece sounds like a smart kid," someone spoke up._

_"She's the best," he replied. "But she just turned four. We just mastered coloring inside the lines."_

_This time, he could hear the entire crowd laugh with him._

"I have my own place here in New York, but I'd rather stay with Caro, Tim and the girls if I get the chance," he finished. "I don't get to see them nearly enough, especially since I've been back in DC."

"Do you know of anyone who has ever threatened to hurt either your sister or her husband? Anyone that they might not be telling us about?"

"I don't think so. If there _had_ been anyone, I'm sure Caro would have told me."

"What about you, then? Can you think of anyone who's threatened you? Radical groups who backed your opponents? Anyone who might have a grudge?"

He thought carefully, his mind racing with possibilities. "Nothing specifically that's ever mentioned my family. I mean, I've obviously made enemies -- you can't be in Washington _without _making enemies -- but I've never heard anyone threaten my family before."

"Are you sure?" She went on, "Anything that you can give us might help."

"Do you really think that this might have something to do with me?" He knew his voice sounds weak and uncertain, but at this point, he didn't care.

She leaned over the table, and Martin felt his skin on fire where her hand brushed against his suit jacket. "I don't know," she said, and her eyes told him she was being completely honest with him. "But we have to look at every possibility."

Reality descended upon them instantly as the rustling of footsteps invaded their moment. Samantha jumped up from her seat at the table, and Martin instantly missed the sensation that her gentle touch had brought.

"Hey, Samantha!" Whoever had entered the break room had brought several pizza boxes along with him, and he immediately placed them down on the countertop beside the refrigerator.

"Hey, Marcus," Samantha replied. "How did the big tournament go?"

"Day one was a success. This -" he motioned to the five boxes he had set side by side, "- is what's left of the team victory party. I talked to Viv, who said you guys hadn't eaten yet, so I figured I would bring this by before Danny starts getting cranky."

Samantha laughed, "Well, Danny's still out in the field, but I'm sure he'll appreciate it when he gets back."

"I'm going to go find where Reggie went to, and hopefully somewhere along the way, locate my wife. Any ideas?"

"I'd try the tech room, she was going over security footage."

"Thanks," and Marcus turned, once again leaving Martin and Samantha alone.

Martin turned to the counter to see Samantha open one of the boxes and pick up a slice. "You don't mind if I eat, do you?"

He shook his head and tried to deny that he was interested in what kind of pizza she ate. _Green peppers,_ he observed. _Unusual._

She sat back down at the table across from him, taking a few bites before wiping her hands on a paper towel and flipping through the file folder she'd set to one side. She took out a photograph and placed it on the table in front of him.

"Have you ever seen this woman before?"

He studied the picture carefully. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, she had dirty blonde hair and dark eyes, and he noticed a small scar that ran along her left forehead just above her eyebrow. He was certain that he had never seen her before, and he finally replied. "No, I haven't. Is this Heather Meekins?"

"Well, yes and no. As far as we can find, 'Heather Meekins' simply appeared out of nowhere about two months ago."

"But she's definitely the person who left the hospital with the girls?" He didn't know what this meant for the case, but he was sure it didn't make things any easier.

"We're working on trying to figure out who 'Heather Meekins' really is and what connection she has with your family, but we also have to consider the possibility that this is just for the ransom." Her voice trailed off, and he found her eyes now directly on his. "We're prepared for either possibility."

He found her voice calm and reassuring, and he wanted - more than anything - to believe her.

His own voice, however, came no louder than a whisper as he answered.

"If anything happens to them because of me -- because of what I do -- I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself."

xxxxx


	7. Chapter 6

xxxxx_**  
**_

_**chapter six**_

xxxxx_  
_

_when the world is falling down  
and another breaks  
and another falls  
four losers always make the winner's day_

-Lifehouse, "Stanley Climbfall"

xx

Almost two minutes had passed, and they both sat in silence, considering his words.

"So what exactly were you two doing that you showed up at the hospital in jeans, anyway?" Martin heard voices echoing down the hall. He didn't recognize them, but could tell from the look on Samantha's face that she did.

"Not that it's any of your business, Taylor, but we were at Starbuck's. When we got the call, we just came on ahead." The first voice had been a male, but the one that answered was female.

"Oooooh, how _exciting_!" the male voice answered. "Clearly, I am going to have to take you out on the town."

"Contrary to popular belief, Danny, some women _are_ immune to your charms." The woman's voice is laughing now, only a tinge of exasperation in it. Martin could tell the two were standing just outside the break room door.

"Oh yeah? Name one woman."

"Besides me?"

"I'm going to choose to ignore that comment."

"Fine. Sam."

"That doesn't count!"

Martin saw Samantha roll her eyes and stand up from the table. "Please excuse Siskel and Ebert out there." Then she spoke up, insistently. "I most certainly _do_ count, Danny!"

He found he was smiling in spite of himself, in spite of the fact that his nieces were out there - missing - and with a complete stranger. She just seemed to bring it out in him, and he didn't want it to stop.

The male voice outside was suddenly silent, as the female answered her phone.

"Russell," Martin heard. In between pauses, the female stated affirmation several times before answering, "Yeah, we're on it. Thanks for letting me know."

He heard Samantha join the other two voices, "What's up, Naomi?"

"Heather Meekins' car was originally registered to a Shawn Aguilar, who we already knew is the one guy she's been calling consistently over the last two months. Local PD found the vehicle outside a gas station in White Plains, but no one has reported seeing the girls yet."

"Did they find anything in the car?" The male voice was speaking again.

"One shoe, probably the little one's. And a picture that one of them must have drawn in art class."

Before their voices faded and they walked away, Martin swore he heard Samantha sigh.

xx

_10:00 pm_

"Okay, I got something." Sam waited as the rest of the team joined her at the conference table. "Our 'Heather Meekins' is actually Justina Hobbs, 24, born and raised in Queens. No family to speak of. She was fired from her last job when she failed the mandatory drug test, but that was in 2000."

"And since then?" Jack asked.

"She was serving time for possession but got out in December on good behavior. She hasn't made contact with her parole officer in three months, which is where I found the connection. I just got off the phone with the parole officer, who said that she and Shawn Aguilar definitely knew each other. Shawn apparently came barging into their last meeting, and he was probably high and hallucinating."

"So, what?" Jack prompts. "Are we thinking that Justina's using again and she and Shawn decided to snatch the girls for drug money?"

"Well, that would make sense," Sam countered, "but we haven't gotten any ransom calls yet."

"No one we interviewed at the hospital mentioned any unusual behavior. They said Heather was fairly quiet and would just blend into the background." Danny reminded them.

"I don't know," Sam started, weighing her theory carefully as she presented it to the team, "but I still really feel like this is somehow related to revenge. It just seems so premeditated. I mean, she creates a new identity, gets a brand new job, and just happens to kidnap the girls the day their father goes out of town."

"Revenge for what, though?" Naomi asked. "There are a thousand possibilities and not a single viable lead."

"I already got them to run Shawn Aguilar through the hospital system, and nothing came up. He's never been treated there." Danny added.

Samantha shrugged. "I just, I don't know. I can't think of any other reason that we haven't had a ransom call yet."

"Okay, Danny see if you can get the hospital to run Justina Hobbs through the registry to see if anything turns up. Vivian and Naomi, you two split up the paper trail. Sam, why don't you see what you can come up with on the revenge angle?"

At Jack's orders, they were off.

xx

_10:15 pm_

Martin wrung his hands together and shifted in his seat.

At this point, Kelsey and Bridget had been missing for almost five hours, and he was certain they were the worst five hours of his life - in spite of the fact that it had provided him the opportunity to see _her_ again.

Being in the Federal Building, watching the entire team as they worked and interacted, Martin couldn't help but wonder how things would have been different if he hadn't decided to go into politics. For a few months, he had seriously considered joining the FBI and becoming an agent. Instead, he now watched helplessly as his father barked orders around the relatively quiet office, his older sister clung to his mother for support, and his brother-in-law was still stuck somewhere in Philadelphia, desperately trying to come home to his family.

He envied the easy rapport the team seemed to have, how they seemed to joke with each other to keep the mood light, how there seemed to be genuine friendships that went beyond 'just coworkers'. He watched through the glass window of the lounge as Danny walked up behind Samantha, handing her a mug of coffee and exchanging a few words before returning to write something on the large white board where they chronicled all of the events of the day of disappearance, according to his father.

Speaking of his father, Victor was now approaching the center table with Jack Malone. They seemed to be in intense conversation with Danny and Samantha, until finally coming to some sort of consensus and heading towards the lounge where he sat with his mother and Caroline.

"Dad?" Caroline sat up, not attempting to mask the fear in her voice.

"We received word that a woman matching Justina's description was seen in Wal Mart earlier this afternoon, purchasing a few items for small children." Jack acted as spokesman, "It took as awhile to make visual confirmation, but it was definitely Justina."

"This is good news," Victor continued. "It means that they probably weren't planning on hurting the girls."

"It's no guarantee," Jack said. "But it _is_ generally a good sign."

"So what do you do now?" Martin found himself asking.

"Well, now we are going out to check on a lead." Victor moved closer in to his wife, but Martin's eyes remained on Jack, Samantha, and Danny at the door of the room.

"... we should probably go get ready," Samantha was motioning towards the end of the hallway.

"Okay, can you be back in twenty minutes?" Jack asked.

"We'll be here in fifteen," Samantha countered.

"What's going on?" Naomi swung around the doorframe and appeared out of nowhere.

"How do you feel -" Samantha smirked at her peer, "- about running a drug bust?"

Danny turned to leave the room, and the two women followed suit.

Martin did not shift his gaze until the elevator doors shut behind them.

xx

_11:50 pm_

_six hours missing_

Martin moved around the bullpen anxiously. It had been well over an hour since his father and the rest of the agents had left for their drug bust, and he felt extremely anxious.

The flurry of activity as the team had prepared to leave had been overwhelming. Caroline had been on the phone with Rebecca while his mother fawned over his father, displeased that he would be going out in the field. Jack Malone and the rest of the team, however, seemed relatively calm in their bustling about before leaving.

And Martin was certain that the image of Samantha, in street clothes and dark makeup, was not going to be leaving his mind's eye anytime soon.

_"We found out the name of the dealer that Shawn Aguilar usually goes through. We're going to ask around on the streets to see if anyone's heard anything and maybe bring the dealer in for questioning. It's nothing to worry about, Lydia." His father was attempting to sooth his mother, although it wasn't working very well._

_"I've spent too many years worrying about you to take this lightly, dear." His mother responded in kind._

_"Everything's going to be fine, Mrs. Fitzgerald," he heard Samantha's voice from the doorway. When he looked up, he was sure everyone in the room would have seen him gaping. She was obviously done up to blend in on the street, in tight jeans and an even tighter top that left little to the imagination. She was playing the part to a T, and in spite of the role and the dark makeup that covered some of her best features, her face radiated beauty._

_Thankfully, though, everyone else seemed to be preoccupied in one way or another and did not notice him staring._

_"We're ready, sir."_

_Victor nodded, and he and Samantha both joined the rest of the team at the end of the hallway._

"Hey, man," Martin's thoughts were interrupted as his brother-in-law came up behind him. Tim had arrived about twenty minutes ago. "I hear your dad is out in the field with the other agents."

"Yeah, he seems to think it's where he's most useful," Martin rolled his eyes. He really did love his father, but the idiosyncrasies of Victor Fitzgerald were more than he'd ever been able to understand. If he spent time trying to decipher them, he'd just end up disgruntled and frustrated.

Tim's gaze was on the photograph of his daughters that hung on the white board in the center of the bullpen. Martin watched as he fingered the photo of the girls. "I keep remembering the first time I held them, about how I thought it was the best moment of my life." He paused, deep in thought. "If I could trade places with them right now, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Neither man had further opportunity to consider Tim's words, however, as the elevator down the hall opened to release raised voices and commotion.

"I insist that you let my daughter take a look at that," he heard his father's gruff voice bellow as the group approached.

Quickly, everyone had reconvened back at the conference table.

"If you don't mind, Jack, I'd like to be the one to question him," Samantha was saying.

"Okay, you take a few minutes and get cleaned up. I'll send you and Danny."

"Martin, son, will you please get your sister?" His father noticed that he and Tim were standing on the outskirts of the group, observing them as they spoke rapidly amongst themselves.

His heart sunk when he saw why his father was so insistent that he summon Caroline. The skin on Samantha's shoulder looked red and angry, and it was obvious that there had been some kind of scuffle while they had been out.

In the thirty seconds it took Martin to return with Caroline, half of the team had dispersed on their various tasks, leaving only Victor, Danny, and Samantha sitting in the bullpen. Martin noticed that Naomi was hovering in a corner, deep in a discussion with Jack, while Vivian led Tim into Jack's office.

"It's pretty superficial, I really don't need this!" Sam was insisting.

"Sam!" Danny laughed at her, "You are _impossible!_ Just let her take a look, alright?"

"Thanks, mom," Samantha quipped. Martin wasn't sure, but he thought he saw his father crack a smile watching them.

"It really doesn't look too bad," his sister said, walking over to where Samantha sat on the conference table and inspecting her shoulder. "What happened?"

"The dealer got angry when I went to cuff him. He grabbed my shoulder and tried to pull me down."

"But Sam kicked his ass," Danny finished.

"Long story short, yeah," Sam and Danny laughed together, and Martin found himself intrigued at the image of Samantha subduing a drug dealer.

"Well, it looks like you've just got a couple of superficial abrasions and some bruising," Caroline was all business. "You should use ice for twenty minutes a couple of times a day, and do you have any Bacitracin at home to put on the cuts?" Samantha nodded. "You should be fine, then. I'd expect the bruising to go down in a couple of days, but if anything gets worse, you know where to find me."

"Alright, I suppose we should go interrogate our friend 'Viper' then. Shall we?" Danny motioned to Samantha before saying, "After you, milady."

Samantha turned around as she hoisted herself off of the conference table. "I told you I was fine."

Danny caught Martin's eyes before turning to follow Samantha. "She is something else," Danny mouthed silently.

Martin could only nod in agreement.

xxxxx


	8. Chapter 7

xxxxx

_**chapter seven**_

xxxxx

_and my money is on anger  
they say the form is good  
they say the odds are stacked  
and this side of birmingham's a good place to be   
when they finally light the match  
and i've seen it all before_  
-Thea Gilmore, "Seen it all Before"

xx

_April 5, 2003  
12:00 am_

"Tell us about Shawn Aguilar and Justina Hobbs," Samantha demanded.

"I don't know nothin'!" the man called Viper insisted.

"If you want us to ignore your - _activities_ - this evening," Samantha encouraged firmly, "I would suggest you tell us anything you can."

"So you don't care that I beat you up?"

"Well, no. You'll definitely be hearing from us about _that_. But in the spirit of being completely honest with each other, Agent Spade here beat _you_ up." Danny was saying. "But, we can choose to ignore several of your other, uh, _indiscretions_."

"And why should I talk to you?"

"Because two little girls are missing." Samantha paused, inching closer to the suspect before she continued. "If you know something and you keep it from us - if anything happens to either one of those girls - you're going to be facing a lot worse than just assaulting a federal officer and drug charges."

Martin and his father watched from behind the tinted glass partition as Samantha and Danny interrogated the drug dealer, Nicky 'Viper' di Biasi. Martin was aware that families weren't often allowed to watch interrogations, but this was one instance where he appreciated his father's position in the Bureau - and his own status.

Looking more closely at Viper, Martin could see that Danny was right and Sam had absolutely kicked his ass. For someone who was only half of Viper's size, she had certainly given him quite a shiner.

"Thank you for coming, son," his father turned his eyes from the interrogation room and towards Martin.

"I can't imagine being anywhere else right now, dad."

"You don't regret it, do you?"

_Oh, great. Let's re-evaluate my life decisions. Where is this coming from?_ Martin silently questioned. _It's not like Dad to have personal conversations._

"I, uh, no. Things are going okay... aside from the obvious."

_Yeah, Dad. Your only grandchildren are missing, and we're standing here talking about my political career._

_This conversation is surreal. The fact that we're even **having** this conversation is surreal._

"I know I haven't always been clear on this, but - all your mother and I want is for you to - to be happy."

Martin had no idea how to respond to this, so he simply nodded. He would let his father talk, he obviously needed to get something off his chest.

"This is a good team. If anyone can find Kelsey and Bridget, it will be them."

It seemed like a complete non sequitur, but Martin was certain there were a few steps of his father's thought process that had been audibly omitted. But it was high praise coming from Victor Fitzgerald, a man who rarely did anything but mince words.

Martin and his father had so lost themselves in their own thoughts that they were not focusing on the interrogation that was unfolding before them. At least, not until Danny and Samantha practically jumped up from their chairs and hustled from the room at almost the same time that Vivian and Naomi came stepping quickly down the hallway towards where they stood.

"We have a woman upstairs who heard about the girls going missing on the 11:00 news and said she thought she might know something that would help" Martin heard Vivian say.

"Her name wouldn't happen to be Noreen Price, would it?" Samantha asked.

"How did you know?" Vivian inquired back.

"Our friend 'Viper' there seems to remember that up to about a year ago, Aguilar was always seen on the streets with his girlfriend Noreen. The last time Viper saw Noreen, she was pregnant. Then suddenly, Aguilar starts showing up without her. And by his highly observation calculations, she was nowhere near due at the time that she stopped showing up..."

"So we're thinking...?" Naomi prompted.

"We want to see if Dr. Byrne remembers Ms. Price," Samantha concluded.

Martin wasn't entirely certain of what had just happened, but by the looks on their faces as the team consulted with each other, things were falling into place.

He could feel their adrenaline course through his body.

Something in his gut told him they were getting close.

xx

Samantha sat down in the chair opposite from Tim Byrne, and Danny followed suit, taking the chair just next to hers.

"Dr. Byrne," Samantha started. "We know this is hard for you, but we need to ask you just a few more questions."

Tim simply nodded in affirmation.

"What do you remember about Noreen Price?"

"It was last March when I got called down to OB because a woman had come in, in active labor at 25 weeks..."

_Tim moved briskly down the halls of the sixth floor of St. Michael's hospital, several nurses, one of his senior residents, and two third year medical students following quickly behind him._

_They had received an urgent call from Labor and Delivery that a 25 weeker was going to be born any minute now._

_"What do we have?" He called out to Dr. Mary-Ann Jenkins, a long-time friend who had been just a year ahead of him in medical school._

_"Her name is Noreen Price, 25 year old white female. We haven't been able to get fetal heart tones -- I have Cindy booking an OR. She's not due for another 15 weeks, but her water broke and her membranes are close to 90 effaced. I don't think she even knows she's in active labor..."_

_"How do you not know you're in active labor?" Tim heard one med student ask the other. But the question hadn't been as quiet as its inquirer had intended it to be._

_"You don't know you're in active labor," Mary-Ann spoke firmly, "when you are so high that you're lying in your own vomit, you don't even notice until hours later, and your neighbor finds you and calls the rescue squad."_

"We had to take her up to the OR. The child -- it was a little girl. She was stillborn, never even had a chance. I was the one who made the call. I never even spoke to Noreen until about four months ago..."

_It was a surprisingly quiet for early evening in the Neonatal ICU. Tim wasn't really needed, but he didn't want to go home to an empty house. The family had traveled to Washington DC for the weekend to be present at his brother-in-law's Inauguration, but Caroline and the girls had remained behind for a few days vacation time with Grandma and Grandpa, while he had Grand Rounds to attend first thing on Monday morning._

_The house just seemed so empty without his girls there._

_"Dr. Byrne?" He heard a young woman's voice call out his name, and he gladly tore his eyes away from the piles of dictations he had sitting in front of him. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Noreen Price. I, uh, I gave birth about ten months ago..."_

_In truth, Tim remembers exactly who she is. But he doesn't tell her that, he simply decides to let her say whatever she came to say. He does notice, however, that she seems to have cleaned herself up significantly since the last time he saw her. Of course, anything is better than the woman who had passed out in her own vomit and hadn't noticed she was going into labor. The woman who had used so much during her pregnancy that her daughter hadn't even had a chance in hell._

_And he suddenly felt all the more grateful for his own two beautiful daughters._

_"I just... I wanted you to know that I've cleaned up my act. No drugs, no booze. I haven't even touched a cigarette in six months."_

_"That's great," he nodded._

_"I... losing my daughter, when I finally was sober enough to realize what had happened... I had never imagined anything could hurt that bad. Do you -- have any children?" She choked up as she spoke, and he genuinely felt pity for the young woman. He wondered how she had gotten herself tangled up in drugs in the first place._

_"I have two daughters. Kelsey is four, Bridget is two." There was a picture of his family attached to the tack board at the back of the desks that surrounded the physician desk area of the unit, and he handed it to her. "They're in DC right now with their mother, and I'm here because I can't stand to be at home without them."_

_"Someday," she said, smiling at him. "Someday, I'm going to have that too. When I'm ready."_

_"When you're ready," he nodded at her._

"That was the only other time I've ever seen her," he finished. "She seemed like she had really changed."

"Thank you, Dr. Byrne," Danny said. "I think that's all we need for now. We'll let you know if we have any more questions."

Once back in the bullpen, Samantha noticed that Jack was still in his office talking to the woman who must be Noreen Price. "I'm going to go see how that's going," she motioned towards the office.

"Okay, I'm going to go down to tech to see if Naomi's lead panned out." Off of Samantha's look, he added. "I swear, my intentions are nothing but honorable."

When he had walked away, she muttered to herself under her breath. "Yeah, right."

xx

Samantha knocked on the glass door of Jack's office, but let herself in without waiting on an answer. By the look on Jack's face, she guessed that Noreen was talking but wasn't actually saying much of anything.

"Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt," she started. "I'm Special Agent Spade, and I just got finished talking with Dr. Byrne."

"Dr. Byrne is here?" Noreen asked.

"His daughters are missing, of course he is."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Noreen was visibly flustered. "I don't know what's gotten into me. I've been so out of it since I visited Molly two weeks ago."

"It's alright, Noreen." Samantha soothed. "Molly was -- Molly was your daughter, right?"

Noreen nodded, unable to speak.

"What can you tell me about what happened with Shawn, after Molly... ?"

_Noreen woke with a start, noticing that the clock next to her bed blared 4:17 AM back at her in bright red numbers._

_She had been doing better since she'd been discharged from detox. The nightmares hadn't been coming nearly as often, and she was slowly making progress with the help of her therapist._

_"Nor! Noreen, baby where are you?"_

_Noreen felt the panic rise up inside her instantly. She hadn't seen Shawn since before Molly, and from the sounds of it, he wasn't sober._

_"Nor! Nor come out here right now."_

_She sighed, wanting nothing more than to get back to sleep before she had to be up in three hours. She was taking classes at community college, and she had a midterm in macro econ in the morning. But she slid out of bed, wrapping a robe around herself before padding quickly to the door of her apartment._

_"Fuck, Shawn! Shut up! You're going to wake up everyone in the building!"_

_"You have to come with me, Nor! Viper hooked me up with this new shit that you've just got to try, baby."_

_"You need to leave, Shawn. Before I call the police."_

_Shawn looked around, and she thought he was going to go quietly._

_"Hey Nor, where's the baby?"_

_"What, Shawn?"_

_"You ain't knocked up anymore, where's the baby?"_

_"Shawn, the baby... I had her months ago Shawn. Where the hell were you **then**?" She doesn't want to cry in front of him, so she yells instead._

_"I was right where I always been."_

_"Well, if you'd been there, then you'd know. The baby died, Shawn. There was nothing Dr. Byrne could do, and there is no more baby. And you need to leave."_

"You know, that was seven months after Molly..." Samantha leaned forward to rub Noreen's arm as she finished her story. "And it was the first time I'd heard from him since before I went into labor."

"Did you hear from him after that?" Samantha asked.

"He called, a couple of times. I never picked up the phone, and I deleted the messages. Never even listened to them. After a few weeks, he just ... stopped calling."

"Can you think of anywhere that he might go if he were in trouble? Family members he might confide in?" It was as though Jack wasn't even in the room anymore, and for all intents and purposes, he wasn't.

"I don't -- I don't know."

"What about places that might have had any kind of significance for him?"

"Well, there was this one place. In White Plains, this old farmhouse where we first met when we were teenagers. No one's lived there for five years, but we used to talk about buying it one day and fixing it up... You know, about a year ago, I'd have told you he was the love of my life. He told me how he was going to marry me, and how we'd be a perfect little family." She paused for a second, and Samantha realized she was holding her breath. "Of course, I guess it didn't mean anything. It was just like everything else he'd ever promised me."

"Thank you, Noreen. We'll be in touch if we need to ask you any more questions."

For the first time in several weeks, Samantha was grateful for Jack's presence. Although in this case, it didn't matter that it was _Jack_, it simply needed to be _anyone else_.

She left him to continue the usual post-interview platitudes and excused herself to the ladies room. She splashed cold water on her face to reassure herself that no vestiges of her dark makeup from earlier that evening remained, and she waited several minutes before finally pulling a paper towel out of the dispenser to wipe her face and hands before opening the door to head back to the bullpen.

xx

_12:35 am_

Martin found himself casually wandering the around the floor once again when he noticed a flurry of activity resume around the central conference table. He was going to go investigate when Samantha rushed past him, not noticing that she had nearly knocked him over in the process.

He stood there in a bit of a daze for a few minutes until he heard the bathroom door open again. She looked much more calm and collected than she had just minutes before.

"We think we've just caught a huge break in the case," she turned to face him. His heart fluttered with hope -- on several levels. "We don't know for sure, but we have an idea of where they might have gone with them."

"That's great news," he said, the understatement of the century as far as he was concerned.

He locked eyes with her for a few seconds, and missed the sensation instantly when he blinked. He wanted to do something, anything to prolong the moment.

He inhaled slowly, calming nerves he didn't know he had, and took a leap of faith.

"Samantha?"

"Yes?" She answered, much like she had when he bid her farewell two weeks ago.

"When this -" he motioned to the office that surrounded them "- is all over, I'd -- I'd really like to get to know you better."

The split second before she answered was torture.

"I'd like that, too."

He wanted to say something else in reply. But then she looked up at him and smiled, and the words died on the tip of his tongue.

He simply smiled back, instead.

xxxxx


	9. Chapter 8

xxxxx

_**chapter eight**_

xxxxx

_if you're cold, i'll keep you warm  
and if you're low, just hold on  
'cause i will be your safety  
oh, don't leave home_  
-Dido, "Don't Leave Home"

xx

_Jesus Christ, Samantha! What are you doing?_

She still wasn't sure what had come over her, but the words had left her lips of their on volition.

Sure, she had found him attractive when she'd first met him. It would have been hard not to. But this? This was verging on insanity.

_Did you forget who he is? Who his **father** is?_

But then he smiles back at her, and she doesn't recognize the feeling deep in her chest. It felt almost like her heart was fluttering.

"Hey Sam?"

_Oh, great. Jack. At least this isn't awkward._

"Yes?"

"Thanks for saving my ass in there. I couldn't get her to focus on one thing long enough to open up about it."

She nodded in acknowledgement, and felt both men's eyes on her. She wouldn't allow the situation to get out of hand, and when she spoke she was all professionalism. "Have we been in contact with local PD?"

"They're setting up a perimeter, but they're waiting for us. They'll be in touch if anything goes down."

Jack turned to answer his phone, and Samantha heaved a sigh. She wished, just for once, she could let things be a little less complicated.

It happened almost as a reflex, then, that she reached her hand out and clasped his, squeezing it reassuringly.

"This is great news," she echoed his words from earlier.

"It is," he replied, and it didn't take her special agent instincts to know that he was referring to more than just Kelsey and Bridget.

As quickly as it happened, though, the moment was over. Her G woman demeanor returned, and their hands dropped down to their sides.

As she walked away, Samantha Spade was all professionalism once again. All but her right hand, that was still tingling from the contact.

xx

_1:55 am_

_eight hours missing_

"Team 2, are you in position?" Jack's voice echoed over the two-way radios.

Samantha surveyed her surroundings, giving a nod in Naomi's direction.

"Team 2 in position," Naomi gave the go ahead.

The two women were on either side of the back door to the farmhouse, which was exactly as Noreen had described. Danny and Vivian were around at the front door, while Jack and a local deputy were guarding the side door. After a fairly heated argument with his wife, Victor had remained with his family at the local police station, but they had been instructed to get in touch as soon as they knew anything further.

"Everyone's in position. We'll go on my count," Jack's voice instructed, just a few minutes later.

Samantha drew her weapon and held it close to her side.

"One... two..." came Jack's count. "Now!"

"FBI! Open up!" she shouted. When there was no answer, she and Naomi immediately moved to break down the door. The wood was old and rotting, and it caved easily under the impact.

The inside of the house was completely in dark, barring a few patches of moonlight that shone through the windows.

"Kitchen is clear," she heard Naomi say over the radio as she made her way up the narrow staircase to the second floor.

One by one, she heard her colleagues rapidly give the "all clear" signals throughout the lower floor of the farmhouse as she cleared the master bedroom and bathroom on the upper level.

She was about to make her way into the second bedroom when she heard Danny's voice call over the radio, "We've got a suspect down! I repeat: a suspect is down!"

She paused to listen to the scene downstairs, inwardly pleading that nothing had happened to either of the girls. "What happened?" Vivian's voice joined Danny's.

"Multiple gunshots to the head, neck, chest and abdomen," Danny was saying. "From the looks of it, Justina's been dead for a couple of hours."

"We didn't get any noise disturbance reports?" Naomi's voice joined the other two.

"No neighbors close enough to have heard anything," the deputy replied.

She could hear the commotion carry from downstairs as the rest of the team joined Danny, and turned back to her task at hand. She couldn't let her guard down; Aguilar could be in the other room, listening to everything and waiting for his chance to ambush her.

A member of the local PD passed by the foot of the stairwell, and she motioned for him to join her upstairs.

"Thanks," she mouthed to the younger man as he reached the top step. She then beckoned him to follow her into the second bedroom.

She threw the door open and brandished her weapon at all corners of the room. Nothing.

"Upstairs is all clear," she spoke into the radio. But it looked like someone had been there recently.

She brought out her flashlight and shone it around the room, illuminating it with the soft beam. She gasped as she noticed that two twin beds had been made up. In the back corner of the room, she saw one of the girls' tiny shoes.

"Kelsey?" She called. "Bridget?"

No answer.

"Girls, it's okay. You're safe now." She moved to the back wall of the room, where the door to the closet was shut. "I'm going to open the door, don't be afraid, okay?"

Still no answer, so Samantha pushed on the door. It didn't budge.

"Girls, if you're in there, I want you to move as far away from the door as you can. I'm going to have to break down the door and I don't want you to get hurt. I'm going to count to three, okay?"

She waited for a few seconds, and as she drew in a breath to start counting she heard a child's voice carry through the door.

"Okay," the voice was breathy and small.

"Kelsey?" Samantha called out.

"Yes?" the voice answered back.

"My name is Samantha," she said, knowing it was important to identify herself. "I work with the FBI, just like your grandfather. We're going to get you out of there. Can you tell me, is your sister in there with you?"

"Uh-huh," came the reply.

"Okay, I'm going to have to break down the door. Can you move as far away from it as possible?" She heard a few scurrying noises, then continued. "Okay, on the count of three. One... two... three."

Samantha leaned her weight against the door, finding that it took a little more effort and pressure than it did to break the door downstairs. She leaned in against her sore shoulder and winced in pain, but finally managed to force the door down.

Inside the small closet, her eyes adjusted to the enclosed darkness, and she saw two extremely tired, very terrified, but essentially unhurt young girls staring up at her with big blue eyes she instantly recognized as their mother's -- _and uncle's_.

"Hey," she said, inching slowly closer to them, not wanting to frighten them any further. "I'm Samantha."

Kelsey studied Samantha intensely, finally eyeing her dark jacket with bright FBI lettering. "You work with Grandpa?" she asked.

"I do," she nodded. "Your family has been very worried about you two. I need to call them and tell them that you're alright. Is that okay?"

Kelsey nodded; Bridget remained silent, her focus only on her older sister.

"Jack," Samantha spoke into her radio. "Jack, I've got the girls. They were locked in a closet, but they look basically unharmed."

"Good. Any sign of Aguilar?"

"Nothing, just the girls."

"Okay. We need to canvas the surrounding area because it looks like Aguilar took off, but I think you should stay with the girls until their family gets here."

"Alright, I have a member of the local PD up here with me. I'm going to send him down to you, and I'll take the girls to the medics. Let me know if you find anything." Samantha waved at the younger man, and he nodded before he retreated down the stairwell.

"Will do," Jack said. She had turned her attention back to the girls when she heard him speak again, softer this time. "Sam?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Good work tonight."

Strangely enough, his words didn't make her heart stop like they used to. She supposed she was tired and stressed, that she was preoccupied with the task at hand. She ended the transmission without saying anything further.

"Kelsey?" she stooped down to the young girls, who still hadn't moved from their position at the corner of the closet. "Who put you two in here?"

Kelsey's eyes grew wide with fear, and her voice came out softly. "I did."

"Okay," she said finally. "We don't have to talk about this now. We can do it later, after you see your mom and dad. How does that sound?" Kelsey nodded. "Right now, we just want to get you out of here. Can you come with me?"

Samantha leaned down to pick Bridget up, but Bridget clung to her older sister, not wanting to let go of her grip on Kelsey's hand.

"Bridget had an accident," Kelsey announced, and Samantha remembered Caroline frantically mentioning something about how Bridget still wore diapers at night. "She was scared."

Samantha wanted to get the little girl out of her wet clothes but knew that she couldn't until they had been examined at the hospital. The girls looked physically okay, but these were still the Deputy Director's granddaughters and the Senator's nieces. If there was any chance of abuse, she couldn't risk destroying evidence.

"It's okay to be scared," she said. "I would have been scared too. But I've got you now, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Okay?"

Kelsey nodded and forced Bridget to let go of her hand. This time, when Samantha bent down to pick up the toddler, Bridget came willingly and buried her face in Samantha's neck.

"It's alright, it's alright. I've got you," she soothed, still somewhat unsure of herself but whispering what came naturally. She moved Bridget's long brown curls out of her face before holding her hand out to Kelsey.

It was difficult moving down the narrow stairwell with the two girls, but Samantha managed. She quickly turned the girls towards where the back door had once been, warning Kelsey to be careful as she dodged the pieces of wood that now adorned the floor.

She noticed that Kelsey clutched her hand a little bit tighter as they passed by the pantry on the way out, and she saw the blood that was spattered against the pantry door for the first time.

_This must have been where Justina was shot_, she thought to herself, glad that Bridget's face was buried in her hair.

Once Samantha navigated their way outside, she immediately led the girls to the flashing lights of the rescue squad.

"Where are we going, Samantha?" Kelsey's eyes bore up at her.

"We have to go to the hospital so that the doctors can make sure that you're both okay," she said. "I'm going to call your mom and dad, and have them meet us there."

"Ma'am?" one paramedic called to her.

"I'm Special Agent Spade," she said. "I'll be riding with them."

The paramedic identified himself as Derrick before moving to take Bridget from Samantha's arms.

"Sam!" the little girl cries out, tightening her grip around Samantha's neck.

"It's okay," she told Derrick. "I've got her."

She motioned to Kelsey to go with Derrick, grateful that Kelsey let go of her hand long enough for Derrick to lift her onto the stretcher inside the ambulance.

Samantha then took her free hand and dialed the Deputy Director's direct line.

"Fitzgerald," the voice on the other end breathed. Samantha's own breath caught in her throat as she realized for the first time that Victor Fitzgerald was a man and not just a looming presence in the Bureau. He sounded like a father and a grandfather, and the realization startled her.

"Deputy Director Fitzgerald, this is Special Agent Spade. We've got the girls; I'm with them right now. We're on our way to --?" Samantha paused and turned to Derrick, who had his hand on Kelsey's wrist like he was feeling for her pulse.

"Mary Immaculate," he said.

"Mary Immaculate."

"We're on our way," Victor replied. She heard his voice as he informed the rest of his family, and she thought he had forgotten the call was still connected when he spoke again. "Agent Spade?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Thank you."

xxxxx


	10. Chapter 9

xxxxx

_**chapter nine**_

xxxxx

_and i know when time  
will pass by slow  
without my heart  
what can i do?_  
-Beruit, "Mount Wroclai"

xx

_2:40 am_

"I'm very sorry, but the hospital may not release any information without the express permission of the parents!" Martin heard a stern old woman dressed as an orderly yell out over the crowds of the media that had gathered in the otherwise empty waiting room.

He held his older sister's hand, feeling that it was going to take both himself and Tim to hold her up after finding out that her babies had been found locked in a closet. He was silently grateful when his father had mentioned that Samantha had been with the girls since the moment they'd been found. He knew instinctively that they would be alright as long as Samantha was with them.

His Secret Service Agents forged a path through the media circus, and Martin laughed inwardly as he likened it to the parting of the Red Sea. The orderly beckoned the family further, and they fell into step rapidly, all eager to see for themselves that Kelsey and Bridget were going to be okay.

The corridor they had been led down seemed endless, until finally they stopped outside one of the doors. The curtain behind the door was drawn closed, but Martin could make out the sounds coming from inside the room.

"Ma'am, do you have her?"

"Yeah, all ready." Samantha's voice sounded like music to his ears. "Shhh, shhhh, almost done."

"May I speak to the parents?" A physician in her late forties approached the Fitzgerald family, and they all immediately turned to the doctor.

"I'm Caroline Byrne," Caro stepped forward, "I'm their mother, and this is my husband, their father." She motioned to her side where Tim stood.

"I'm Dr. Kurbin. I've been taking care of the girls since they got here, and from what we can tell, neither one was harmed in any way. We haven't been able to fully examine Bridget, though -- she barely let go of Agent Spade long enough for us to get her in a gown. We're going to give them some IV fluids, though; both of them look pretty dry."

"How much?" Tim asked, his defense mechanisms kicking in over the shock of what had unfolded in the last 10 hours.

"We're running Kelsey's at 250 cc's an hour, and Bridget's at 150. We're watching to make sure we don't overload them."

Martin wondered what that meant, but Caro and Tim seemed to nod in agreement.

"You can go on in and see them if you like," Dr. Kurbin said. "Their nurse was just starting up the IV's."

The next thing Martin knew, his mother had thrown open the curtain and the family rushed into the room before shutting the door behind them.

Martin saw two hospital beds lined up in a row. Kelsey's sleeping form lay on the left bed, and when his gaze moved right to the other bed, he felt a momentary panic to find it unoccupied.

But he then craned his neck to the far left corner of the room when he saw a nurse rise, only to reveal Bridget clinging to Samantha as she sat in the chair by Kelsey's bed. Kelsey's small hand clasped in Samantha's for comfort, even in sleep.

Caroline rushed forward, taking Samantha by surprise. Martin couldn't help but crack a smile when he saw his sister embrace her daughter and, in extension, Samantha. She looked taken aback, but adjusted quickly.

"Oh, goodness! I'm so sorry!" Caroline said, "I didn't mean to attack you like that!"

"It's fine," Samantha smiled reassuringly. "I just didn't see you come in."

"I just, I -- Excuse me!" Caroline laughed and wiped tears of joy from her eyes. Tim walked up behind her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Samantha stood to hand Bridget to her parents, and Martin noticed that Kelsey roused when her hand fell from Samantha's grasp.

"Sam?" Kelsey's voice was heavy with exhaustion.

"I'm right here," Samantha said. "And your mom and dad are here, too."

"We'll give you some time alone," Lydia Fitzgerald spoke up quietly. "But we'll be back later. Just let us know if we can bring you anything."

When they had closed the door behind the reunited family, Samantha turned to his father.

"We're still going to have to get a statement from both of the girls, but we can do that whenever you think is the right time." She said softly, but firmly. And then -- "I'm sorry, I need to get this."

"Spade," her voice echoed in the virtually empty hospital corridor. "Alright, Danny. Thanks -- Yeah, no, they're fine all things considered. They're going to be okay. -- Back at the office? I'm not sure. I'll let you know."

She flipped her phone shut. Martin couldn't help but study her face as she breathed deeply, her eyes closed and her hand massaging the back of her neck.

"Agent Spade?" It was his mother's voice, and Martin noticed how old both she and his father appeared. They'd seemed to age rapidly over the course of the past 10 or so hours.

Samantha heaved a sigh, turning to face them.

"Shawn Aguilar is dead."

xx

_4:30 am_

Samantha stood quietly outside the door of Kelsey and Bridget's room before knocking.

"I just wanted to see how they were doing," she said, opening the door just enough to step through.

"They're asleep, but they're pretty restless," Lydia Fitzgerald replied. "I sent Tim and Caro with Martin to get something to eat. I can call them if you'd like something?"

"Oh, no thank you," she said, touched by the woman's consideration.

"They remind me so much of Caro and Becca when they were younger," Lydia said wistfully. Samantha cast her eyes at Kelsey's bed, where the two girls lay side by side. "I would get home from work, and they would be wrapped up in some elaborate fantasy scenario. You know, they used to use Martin as their own personal doll -- they would put him in their doll strollers and race him around the house. Victor hated it," she laughed, and Samantha tried to fight that smile that rose across her face. "He would say 'No son of mine will be wheeled around in any pink strollers!' Don't tell him, but I used to encourage it. Martin always loved the motion -- any kind of motion: car rides, the swings, just being held. And the girls always took care of him, even when we -- couldn't be there."

"Your secret's safe with me," Samantha no longer tried to hide it as she grinned. As much as she was trying to fight it, her attraction to Martin was something she did not seem to be able to control. At the same time, though, she tried to fight the gnawing sensation in her stomach that was reminding her of her own sister and everything that they had missed out on in the last ten or so years.

Her reverie was interrupted when Martin crept back into the room. "Becca's at O'Hare," he said. "She said her flight gets in at about 9:15, and that Scott sends his love. And Bonnie is insisting that we come over for dinner tonight. I told her to fight with Dad over that." He rolled his eyes, and she wondered who 'Bonnie' was. "Where is Dad, anyway?"

"I'm right here, Martin," Victor said as he entered. "Agent Spade?" She nodded at her superior, "Agent Russell is here for you."

Before Samantha has a chance to raise her eyebrow, Naomi's form became visible as she stepped from behind the Deputy Director.

"NYPD found a 21 year old college student outside one of the libraries at Columbia, fits with Larry Horton's MO."

"Copycat already? You've got to be kidding me."

"Homicide is meeting us back at the Bureau, they need our reports." Before Samantha can raise her voice in protest, Naomi held up her hands to stop her. "Don't thank me yet, Sam. Wait until you hear who our contact is."

Samantha rolled her eyes before mouthing "one second."

"I'm so sorry, but I really do need to go talk to NYPD."

"I understand, it's all part of the job," Victor sympathized.

"But if there's anything that I can do, just give me a call."

"When the girls are ready," Victor spoke on behalf of the family, "We'd like you to be the one to take their statements."

"Of course. Tell the girls I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer."

With that she turned on her heels, willing herself not to look back. But that did not subdue her intuition tell her that she was leaving something behind.

xx

_9:00 am_

Martin took a deep breath as he boarded the elevator at the Bureau once again. This time, though, things were looking much better than when he'd entered the building just about 12 hours previously. He held Kelsey's hand in his, afraid to let go as if she might suddenly disappear again.

He couldn't even imagine how Caro and Tim felt.

The family exited the elevators in complete silence. They knew Kelsey needed to give her statement as soon as possible -- Bridget as well, if she could give them anything. Shawn Aguilar was dead, apparently suicide, according to the report his father had given, but they still needed to get the girls' statements on record.

From the desks at the bullpen, he could see Samantha's form slouched in her chair.

"Oh, come on Sam. It wasn't _that_ bad!" Naomi called out.

"What, no flowers this time?" Danny asked.

Samantha groaned, spinning her chair around and tossing a blue foam football in Danny's direction.

"You know, you could do a lot better," Danny said, tossing the football at Naomi.

"Yeah, but nobody's going to do better than Viv --" Samantha saw something that apparently they didn't, and the other two turned around to investigate. "What is this, more leftovers from Reggie's tournament?"

"Your husband, Vivian, is a _saint_." Naomi said, taking the opportunity to heave the football at Danny's unsuspecting form while he was otherwise preoccupied with the bagels Vivian placed on the conference table before them.

"SAM!"

The four agents all turned their heads when Martin's niece called out from his side.

"Hey, Kelsey. You look like you're feeling a lot better."

"Wow, isn't she something special," Danny laughed to Naomi and Vivian. "The first time I called you 'Sam', I thought you were going to castrate me."

"Don't tempt me," Sam quipped. "You're still in hot water from earlier. Now, if you'll excuse me, some of us around here actually plan on doing our jobs."

Samantha turned to face Caroline and Tim. "We can do this however you think would be best."

"Marty, can you take Bee for us?"

"Of course," he replied. Bridget was still rather tired from the ordeal and didn't even rouse when Caroline handed her over.

Samantha led them to a separate lounge, and Martin followed with his parents. He watched through a tinted glass window as Samantha sat Kelsey down at small table, laying paper and colored pencils in front of her.

"I heard that you like to draw," she said, and Caroline looked gratefully at Samantha. "So while we talk, why don't you draw us something?" Kelsey nodded, thinking for a few minutes before taking one of the pencils to the paper in front of her.

Martin felt both of his parents tense up beside him. He tried to remain calm - not wanting to disrupt Bridget's nap - but inside, his heart was doing an odd variety of somersaults that even Samantha's soothing voice didn't seem to suppress.

_"Now, I want you to start at the very beginning. I need you to tell me everything that you can remember, okay ... ?"_

xxxxx


	11. Chapter 10

xxxxx

_**chapter ten**_

xxxxx

_forgive me the confusion  
forgive me as i realize my thoughts betrayed  
you are the answer  
cry and smile the same_  
-Vienna Teng, "Momentum"

xx

"Now, I want you to start at the very beginning. I need you to tell me everything that you can remember, okay ... ?"

Samantha sighed and opened her interview notebook, scrawling the case number in the top left hand corner of the first empty page. She knew that the Deputy Director, along with his wife and Martin, were just outside the window watching.

_"Kelsey? Bridget?" Justina closed the door of the lounge behind her._

_Kelsey was skeptical of the woman who approached them. She was used to most of the different people her parents worked with, but she had never seen this woman before._

_"My name is Heather. I work with your parents."_

_"No you don't," Kelsey said defiantly. "Daddy doesn't work here."_

_It was the truth, of course. Tim's office was an elevator's ride away, and Kelsey knew this very well. She always insisted that she get to press the elevator buttons._

_"You're right, but he does work upstairs. I need you girls to come with me, okay? We're going to go get something to eat."_

_"No!" Bridget shook her head._

_"We're going to our aunt's for dinner tonight," Kelsey explained with the exasperation of a four year old. What she didn't know, though, was that she had given Justina just enough to work with to lure them away without a fight._

_"Well, your mom is really busy with a patient right now and she won't be able to get you to your aunt's until it's really late. She asked me if I could get my friend to take you to your aunt's. I just need you to put your jackets on..."_

"... but when we got into the car, her friend didn't drive the right way. Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Roger live on the same way to our house."

"Do you remember how long you were in the car?" Samantha prompted, but Kelsey shook her head.

"A really long time, until we got to the house. That's when Heather's friend told us we couldn't go home."

"Do you remember Heather's friend's name?"

"No, but he wasn't very smart. He thought my name was 'Molly'"

_"Molly, I need you to go upstairs to your room," Shawn motioned both girls up the stairs with an unsteady hand._

_"Who the hell is Molly?" Justina shouted._

_Justina and Shawn were standing in front of the pantry in the kitchen, and from where Kelsey and Bridget stood hushed and terrified on the stairwell, they could just make out the back door._

_"Molly just went upstairs, Noreen. She's just not feeling well, she'll be okay."_

_"Fuck, Shawn. What the hell is wrong with you?"_

_"Nothing, Nor. Maybe we should just go to bed."_

_"What about the ransom, Shawn? You were supposed to set everything up!"_

_"Shhh, Noreen! You don't want to wake the baby."_

_"**Baby?**" Bridget held tight to Kelsey as their yelling intensified. "Shawn, there are **two** girls that you just sent upstairs, and we need to set the ransom so that we can pay Viper. Otherwise we're in deep shit - you said so yourself!"_

_"Molly? Molly?" Shawn was sweating profusely, and though Kelsey was absorbing the conversation, she did not understand anything that was going on._

_"THERE IS NO MOLLY!" Justina shouted frantically._

_Before Kelsey knew what was happening, Shawn had pulled a gun out from behind his back. She took Bridget's hand and pulled her up the stairs. They ran up into a bedroom, shutting the door behind them and seeking refuge in a dark corner._

_Kelsey heard a series of loud noises that sounded like one of her father's war movies and scanned the room for a better place to hide._

_Tears streaked down both children's faces as Kelsey shut them in the tiny closet. It was dark and cramped and uncomfortable, and Kelsey thought the loud noise would never stop._

_When the commotion from below finally came to a halt - in what was actually only about a minutes' time - the girls were too terrified to move._

_They remained in the closet for hours, holding firmly to one another, and crying softly until there were simply no tears left._

xx

_10:15 am_

Martin's head was still spinning at Kelsey's statement. She hadn't said much since Samantha had finished taking her statement, but seemed fairly content with her paper and colored pencils at Jack's desk.

His mother had taken over Jack's office, turning it into a temporary sanctuary for the family away from the slowly accumulating Saturday morning bustle of the Federal Building. Tim sat on the sofa with Caroline slumped beside him, holding a sleeping Bridget across their laps. His mother was craning her neck over Kelsey's shoulder, inspecting Kelsey's artwork and uttering quiet approval.

Meanwhile, his father was deep in discussion with Jack, Vivian, Danny, and another agent he recognized from the memorial service, Agent Van Doren.

Martin felt restless and excused himself to go grab some coffee.

As he walked across the bullpen, he saw a young woman with dark brown hair and blonde highlights get off the elevator and make her way down the hall.

"Becca?" He called out, altering his path to meet her.

"Marty!" His sister ran up to embrace him. "They're really okay, then?"

"They're exhausted and in shock, but they'll be fine... You, on the other hand --" Martin waved his hand up and down at her apparel. Rebecca and her husband Scott ran a photography studio outside of Chicago, Scott working the business angle while Rebecca headed up the artistic side. Martin and Caroline had always been studious and serious, but Rebecca was dramatic and always a little bit avant-garde.

"Shut up, jackass," Rebecca slapped him playfully across the chest. And then, "Hi, Dad."

She looked at her father tentatively, appearing surprised when he leaned in to hug her in such a public place.

"Everyone, this is my other daughter, Rebecca. Rebecca, Special Agents Malone, Johnson, Van Doran, and Taylor. Agents Spade and Russell are in a meeting with NYPD right now."

"Nice to meet all of you," Rebecca nodded her head, then turned to Martin expectantly.

"They're in here," he answered her silent question and followed her back into Jack's office, grateful to have his entire family back together again.

xx

_11:20 am_

Samantha slumped down at the table in the break room, absolutely exhausted.

She had been in and out of meetings with NYPD all morning about the law school rapist copycat, which would have been stressful enough alternating with the wrap-up of the Byrne girls' case. And that was before she figured in that Eric Kellar, naturally, had been their contact from Homicide.

Danny, as much as she genuinely cared about him, could be infuriating at times -- going out of his way to call Naomi out of the meeting and forcing her to be alone with Kellar.

Awkward was the first word that came to mind.

_"Then I noticed a man in dark clothing watching me from in between the stacks. He was about 5'10" -- are you even listening to me?" Samantha said, frustrated. "Kellar! Come on, this is important. I need to be finished with this when the Fitzgeralds come back down to give their statement."_

_"Of course I'm listening, Samantha. Are you?"_

_"What kind of a question is that?"_

_"You know what I'm talking about. You left, and you haven't called in two weeks."_

_"That's never been a problem before... I can't even believe we're having this conversation!"_

_"So, what?"_

_"So, we're not having this conversation. It's over."_

_"Fine, later."_

_"No." Samantha's voice was firm. "It's over."_

She found a certain sense of closure in their conversation, though it was not a conversation she wanted to be having at work. And especially not with the Deputy Director due to arrive back in the building at any time.

Samantha had to admit she was surprised at Victor Fitzgerald's behavior. She had seen him in passing around the office several times, each time stern and barking orders. But this time, meeting him up close and watching him interact with his family, she saw him as a man - a husband, father, and grandfather. And she felt warm inside in a way she couldn't explain.

"You look like hell, Sam." Naomi flopped down in the chair beside her.

"Yeah, and you look like a million bucks."

Then, without warning, "So, the Senator keeps watching you."

"Oh, come on, I thought we went over that before," Samantha hoped she wasn't blushing.

"Yeah, and that was before his nieces went missing and he rearranged his entire schedule to spend a couple of extra days here." Off Samantha's look, Naomi continued, "I overheard him talking to somebody in Washington about rearranging some appointments."

"So what's your point?"

"He likes you, Sam." Naomi said, bluntly. "I'm sure of it. And you don't think he's half bad, either." Naomi raised an eyebrow, practically daring Sam to disagree.

Sam remained silent, unable to deny it.

"There are a million reasons why it would be a bad idea," Sam retorted.

"And there's not even a little part of you that isn't curious? I mean, he's not entirely unattractive..."

Sam grinned, "No, he's not."

"... and furthermore, his father has decided to rent out a private dining room at the Four Seasons for us next Saturday."

"He what?!" Samantha asked, incredulously.

"Yeah," Naomi replied.

"But -- _next Saturday_! How is that even possible?"

"Apparently, he knows someone who got the group that had previously rented the dining room to reschedule." Naomi smirked, "It must be nice to have Victor Fitzgerald's connections."

xx

_11:30 am_

Martin stood about twenty feet away from the door to the break room. He knew Samantha had gone in there about 25 minutes ago. But he hadn't been able to break away from his mother's conversation and, in the interim, he had seen Naomi disappear in there as well. He wanted to speak with her, but he didn't exactly want an audience.

Not for this.

"You know, Marty, you could just go in there and talk to her." Rebecca came up next to him and studied the picture he held in his hands - one that Kelsey had drawn just that morning and had wanted to give to Samantha.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Becca."

"Don't play stupid with me, little bro. I know you, and if anyone in this world was 'your type' -- she's it."

"It's not all about looks," he started, but he never got to finish.

"-- I know, I know! But that's just it. Although her looks don't hurt." Martin tilted his head to the side to study his sister's intentions. "All I know is that I haven't seen you look at a girl the way I've seen you looking at her in a long time. She even seems to have half a brain, too, and that's more than I can say for almost any of the other girls you've 'dated'"

"First of all," Martin retorted, "Those 'girls' weren't exactly girls - more like real live Barbies and just as plastic. And furthermore," he emphasized, "I wouldn't exactly call it 'dating.'"

"And that, Marty, is _exactly_ my point."

"That's easy for you to say. You never have to go on another first date," Martin motioned to her left ring finger.

"Took me awhile to get there," she replied. "But you try and try and eventually -- you find someone who makes it worth all the effort."

Martin sighed.

"Either way," Rebecca quipped, pointing back down at the hand-drawn picture Martin held. "You have to admit she looks good in Kelsey's latest version of the family picture."

Martin's face felt flush as Rebecca pointed out a small detail of the drawing he hadn't noticed. Kelsey had depicted the entire family standing in line outside a square house. And there, standing in the far right hand end of the line next to the figure that was Martin, was another stick figure - a woman who hadn't been in any of Kelsey's previous family portraits.

She had blonde hair.

xx

_11:35 am_

Martin took a calming breath when he noticed Naomi leave the break room. He wanted to catch his chance while he knew she was alone.

"Hey, Samantha," he said as he pretended to busy himself pouring a glass of water.

"Oh. Hey, Martin."

"Do you mind if I --?" he motioned to the empty chair next to her.

"Oh, no. Go right ahead," she offered him a small smile, and he tried not to study her face. Her exhaustion shone in her eyes - and there was a sorrow there that he couldn't quite place - but when she smiled, _really_ smiled, her brown eyes would light up just enough to leave him wanting to see her smile again.

"I -- uh, Kelsey drew this for you," he laid the picture down on the table in front of her.

Samantha laughed softly, inspecting the picture in earnest. "So, is this the entire city of New York?"

"Well, no, not exactly. Just, uh, my entire family and cousins, their nanny..." Martin identified every stick figure along the line from left to right until he reached the last two.

"So then this one is you?" Martin nodded. "Well, naturally, I can see the resemblance."

"Are you implying something?" He laughed.

"Never," she insisted before pointing to the end of the drawing. "So, then, who's this last person?"

He locked eyes with her, his whole body trembling from sensory overload, before he whispered his reply.

"It's you."

xxxxx


	12. Chapter 11

xxxxx

_**chapter eleven**_

xxxxx

_inside out, upside-down twisting beside myself  
stop that now - you're as close as it gets without touching me  
oh no, don't make it harder than it already is  
mmm, i feel a weakness coming on_  
-Imogen Heap, "The Walk"

xx

_April 7, 2003  
4:50 pm_

Samantha's head was spinning; she had never been so anxious for a Monday to be over.

Outside it was freezing, no signs of April anywhere as late snowstorm blew through the city. She smiled in spite of herself, in spite of the fact that it freezing outside, that it was Monday and that her weekend off had -- well, her weekend off _hadn't_ would be the more correct term.

But all things considered, it hadn't been a _terrible_ weekend. Their missing girls had been found essentially unharmed, she had officially ended things with Kellar, and, oh yeah, she had a date that evening.

_Maybe not a date_, she reminded herself. _He just said he wanted to get to know you better. Just ignore the fact that he's the Deputy Director's son **and** a United States Senator. He's just a guy - a nice guy - and you deserve someone who is unattached - at least in the matrimonial sense._

Samantha willed the second hand of her watch to move faster, recalling the sensation that coursed through her body when their eyes locked on Saturday.

_"It's you," came his soft reply._

_She swallowed, wondering if her mind - or her heart - happened to be playing tricks on her. "I -- Tell Kelsey I say 'thanks' and that it's beautiful."_

_"I will," he said. He moved his hand over the picture to where her stick figure was. "Sam -"_

_He sounded uncertain as he shortened her name for the first time._

_"Sam."_

_He repeated it with more confidence in his voice, and she noted how naturally it flowed from his lips this time._

_"I know what I said earlier -- I just wanted you to know that I meant it. I'd really like to get to know you better, if you still want --?"_

_"That would be nice," she said carefully, considering Naomi's advice. "What exactly did you have in mind?"_

_"Well," he said, his boyish smile and the sparkle in his eyes full of possibility, "I've rearranged things so that I could stay in New York until Tuesday..."_

And before she knew it, they had decided she would bring dinner by his home at 7:30 on Monday night. Samantha was glad they had gone with a less obtrusive, less public meeting place. Given his status, the fact that she worked for the Bureau, and his nieces' recent kidnapping, it would make everything a little bit easier. This - _whatever this was_ - it wasn't anyone else's business but theirs.

"Nice to have a quiet day at the office, isn't it?" Vivian's voice broke her train of thought.

"Yeah, after this weekend."

"I heard Homicide caught the copycat," Viv continued, and Sam could sense an ulterior motive.

"Uh, yeah. He was pretty sloppy, it didn't take long for him to screw up and get caught."

Samantha rose from her seat, casting a glance at the contents of her desk. She picked up her remaining case reports and threw her purse over her shoulder.

"You heading out, too?" Vivian asked.

"Nothing left to do here," Sam answered casually.

The two women waved at Danny and Naomi, who were deep in conversation at the conference table and did not really take notice.

Finding themselves alone when they reached the elevator, Sam stepped forward and pressed the button for the parking garage level. She felt Vivian's intense gaze on her, and wondered why her colleague was suddenly so intent on studying her.

"You know, Sam, it's okay to move on. It's okay to be happy," Viv said finally.

Sam tried to fight the excitement that had settled over her. She had a feeling she was only beginning to realize how 'okay' it really was.

And that realization terrified her.

xx

_7:20 pm_

Martin paced around his living room, as he had been for practically the past hour. There were only so many times he could watch the ESPN scores/updates ticker run across the bottom of his television before he had the entire thing memorized, and Martin had passed that point about four full runs ago.

Martin cast a glance outside as the snow continued to fall. He had seriously considered giving her a call and offering to send a car to pick her up. But he knew that probably wouldn't fly with someone like her. Samantha was independent; he knew that instinctively.

He was glad when his cell phone rang, distracting him from his endless pacing.

"Hey, Becca," he greeted his sister. "Did you get in okay?"

"Yeah, I did... So, Caro told me you were fending for your own dinner tonight. Anything I should know?" She asked suggestively.

"No, not really," he answered. "I just need to do some catch up research for the Everett Foundation Hearings on Wednesday."

"Okay," Rebecca said with a tone of voice that told him she didn't believe him for a second. "Well, I'll let you get back to dealing with your _important business_, but give me a call later if you want to talk."

"Sure, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Martin loved his sisters, but he did not want to give either one of them any ammunition before it was time. He wasn't anxious to jinx things with Samantha. He couldn't deny his attraction to her, didn't want to deny it, but he wasn't even sure this evening qualified as a date.

This was just two adults having dinner, hopefully getting to know each other a little bit better. That was it. He would just ignore the somersaults his heart did every time they were in the same room, and wait for divine inspiration to intervene on his behalf.

Or, that's what he was telling himself.

But those thoughts flew from his mind the second he heard his doorbell ring.

xx

_7:35 pm_

Samantha took a deep breath, clutching the paper bags with take out to her chest before pressing her gloved index finger to the doorbell.

"Hey," he said as he opened the door and ushered her inside. He smiled at her, but sounded about as nervous as she felt when he spoke. "It's still really coming down out there. You didn't have any trouble getting here?"

He brushed at the wet flakes that had fallen on her shoulders before taking her coat from her. In spite of her own nerves, she felt suddenly warm and comfortable inside at the contact - it felt surprisingly natural.

"No trouble at all. It was a nice drive once my car heater decided to work properly," she offered him a half-smile as he hung her coat and scarf in the front closet. She took a moment to study his appearance, deciding it was a shame that he couldn't dress like that in Congress. His jeans and navy flannel shirt were extremely flattering - not that he didn't look good in his normal suits.

"So," he said, turning around, "that smells pretty good."

She waved the paper bags in front of him. "Sal's," she replied. "It's this little Italian place about three blocks from my apartment. I know you said you'd eat anything, but I got a couple of options just in case..."

Her nerves suddenly returned in full force. When they'd planned this, he had actually offered to cook or to take her out. Though they had finally decided that she would bring dinner, and he'd told her he didn't care what it was -- that he'd missed eating at the 'real' New York restaurants. Which she had assumed meant the more casual places as opposed to just the haute cuisine establishments. But then she started to explain her dinner selection, and her doubts started to creep up on her again.

Martin gave a small laugh, though, and she was reassured. "When I said 'anything,' I really did mean 'anything' Sam. You have so much to learn about me."

She raised an eyebrow playfully and he motioned for her to follow him.

_A lot to learn, indeed_, she thought to herself.

xx

_7:45 pm_

Martin led Sam through the living room and into the kitchen, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest when he got the chance to fully take in her appearance as she placed the food on his table. She wore dark jeans and a pale pink sweater that fit just snugly enough to show off her figure. Her hair fell gently around her face, framing it.

After setting the table, deciding on drinks, and properly divvying up the dinner selections (he casually suggested that they split the dishes so that he would have a chance to try everything), Martin sat down across from Sam at his kitchen table feeling completely content.

"So," she said, looking up from the ravioli in front of her.

"So," he grinned at her. "Tell me a little bit more about yourself."

"And why should I go first?" She teased, although he could sense a degree of caution in her voice, as though she was holding back until she could gage the situation.

"Well," he didn't want to scare her off, "I'm at a disadvantage here. You already know a lot of basic facts about me. I mean, you've met almost my entire family at this point, and I know nothing."

He saw her face soften as she consented.

"So, start with your family. What are they like?"

She didn't answer right away, and he worried that he had already hit a sore spot for her. When she spoke a few seconds later, his fears were not assuaged.

"I have an older sister. Her name's Lindsey, and last I knew she was living in Chicago..."

"That's where Becca and her husband Scott live," he offered before carefully probing for more information. "Is Lindsey married?"

"I, uh, I have no idea," she said. "My family -- it's just me, my mom, and Lindsey. We're not close the way yours is."

Martin felt an instant sadness wash over him with on several levels. He couldn't imagine not being close to his family. Okay, well maybe his parents, but his sisters, their families, and his aunt and uncle -- they could drive him crazy, but they were his ultimate support network. In his line of work, it was nice knowing he had a few people he could implicitly trust. Furthermore, he thought he heard a twinge of regret in her voice. To hazard a guess, he supposed that they had been close at one time and that something had happened to pull them apart.

"So, how are Kelsey and Bridget holding up?" Sam finally asked. Martin recognized the aversion technique, and silently made a note to ask her more at a later date if he ever got the chance.

"They're doing a lot better," he replied. "Neither one of them is sleeping through the night on their own, but Caro knows a great child psychologist, and we think they'll be fine eventually." He paused for a moment. "Everyone is really grateful for what you did."

She smiled shyly at him. "It's all part of the job. But believe me, it's one of the good parts." He looked at her inquisitively, and she continued. "You want to bring everyone home safely."

Their eyes met across the table, and he understood exactly what she was trying to tell him. And he would forever be grateful that she had been instrumental in bringing his nieces back home to them.

An hour and a half later, they still sat at the kitchen table with empty take-out boxes strewn in front of them. The food had lived up to Sam's rave reviews, but the conversation had turned out to be even better. Though Martin had plenty of experience drawing out information from men on Capital Hill, he quickly found that discovering new things about Samantha was a far more rewarding task.

He learned that she was from Kenosha, Wisconsin, that she had majored in French and Sociology at Wisconsin-Madison, and that she had added the Sociology major on a whim because her roommate had told her the intro professor was cute. She blushed a little when she'd told him that, and he'd tried not to smirk too widely.

He also inadvertently discovered that she would bite her bottom lip when she was deep in thought and that her beautiful brown eyes would dart from side to side when she was nervous or embarrassed about something.

Not wanting the evening to be over just yet, he cleared the table and suggested a glass of wine and whatever happened to be on TV that evening.

His heart skipped a beat when she agreed easily.

xx

_9:10 pm_

"Sounds good," Sam agreed, secretly glad he had offered to prolong the evening.

She helped him throw away what little was left of dinner. For a man who looked as trim and fit as he did, he could definitely put it away. She watched surreptitiously as he took out two glasses and filled them with wine, then walked in step with him to the living room.

They sat together on his large sofa, close but not touching, and Sam found herself acutely aware of the small distance between them. His arm brushed casually against her thing as he leaned forward to pick up the remote.

"SportsCenter, eh?" She teased as he flipped the television on.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I wanted to watch 'La Boheme' on PBS last night, but I had to go to the symphony." Martin retorted, and she immediately picked up on his _ER_ reference.

"The Breakfast Club episode," she offered a lopsided smile. "At least now we know you have impeccable taste in television."

He turned to face her, very serious all of a sudden.

"I'd like to think I have impeccable taste in more than just television."

xx

_11:00 pm_

Martin rested contentedly as the end credits rolled.

They had settled - after a few minutes teasing on his part - on _To Have or Have Not_, much to Sam's playful indignation. But sometime between the time when she'd admitted her mother's obsession with Bogart and the time when the snowfall outside gently came to a halt, her head had come to rest on his side and his arm had wrapped itself carefully around her shoulders.

"Hey, Slim," he said softly, aware that it was getting late and she still had to drive back in to the city.

"Hey, Steve," she answered, looking up at him. He felt her proximity acutely, and knew that if he leaned down just a bit further, he could kiss her.

But just seconds later, the moment was gone. The credits finished rolling and the soft blare of the television was no longer quite as soft. Martin sighed and silently cursed at his remote control before clicking the 'off' button.

"I, uh, I should probably get going," Sam said, rising from his embrace. He missed the heat of her body instantaneously.

"Yeah, I guess so," he tried not to sound too disappointed. "Here, I'll walk you out."

He guided his hand along her lower back and led her back out into the front foyer. His hands lingered maybe longer than they should as he helped her maneuver back into her coat, and then she turned to face him as she went to adjust her scarf.

She stopped suddenly though, their bodies standing flush together so that their breaths mingled and echoed in the quiet of the foyer.

"What are we doing, Martin?" she asked him.

_I have no idea,_ he said silently. _I have absolutely no idea._

He didn't recall giving her a verbal answer. The only thing he was aware of in the seconds that followed was the way her lips suddenly brushed against his -- or his against hers. He didn't know which.

It was soft and gentle and sweet, and he felt suddenly empty inside when the brief contact ended.

So his hands fell from her back to her slender hips, where he pulled her flush against his body and brushed his lips against hers again. This time, though, their lips lingered. He felt her relax against him as he caressed her hips through her coat. He wanted to remember everything about this moment -- her arms on his chest, her hands massaging his shoulders, her lips parting easily to allow his tongue access. Her shallow panting breaths as they reluctantly pulled apart.

Her eyes looking up at him, silently repeating her question from minutes earlier.

Martin still didn't have an answer, at least not an eloquent one, so he simply brushed an errant lock of hair from her face and enjoyed the sensation of being near her.

And when he shut the door behind her, he found his home suddenly lonely in a way that it hadn't been just hours before. So he picked up his phone, dialed her home number, and waited for her voice mail to pick up.

_"Hey, Slim..."_

xxxxx


	13. Chapter 12

xxxxx

_**chapter twelve**_

xxxxx

_if love is surrender  
then whose war is it anyway?_  
-Frou Frou, "Psychobabble"

xx

_April 11, 2003  
6:55 pm_

_"Hey, Slim... I hope you got back home safely. I just wanted you to know that I had a really great time with you tonight. I'll be back in New York this weekend, and I'd really like to see you again. Just ... give me a call. We need to come up with an answer to your question."_

Samantha replayed his message for probably the hundredth time that week, as she bustled around her apartment and attempted to make things presentable.

She had let work consume her this week, choosing to bury herself in her job to prevent herself from dwelling on the doubts and fears and questions that Monday night had drawn up. And that, in turn, had caused her apartment to go from its normal "casually lived in" status to "it looks like a mini tornado just hit."

She paused in her tracks to run her index finger over her lips once again, recalling the sensation of his kiss. It felt different from any other kiss she'd ever had, but then, Martin wasn't quite like any other man she'd met. He had called her twice that week, just to talk about everything and nothing. They had shied away from any conversation about _them_, and instead had stuck to general conversation -- her latest case, his big hearing on the Everett Foundation. His stories about the actual inner workings of the Senate. His laughter as she likened his description of the alliances and networks that his colleagues formed as similar to the cliques one might form in a high school cafeteria.

Making casual conversation with him came so easily.

If only she could figure out what she wanted. Playing back the message, hearing his voice, remembering how it felt to be close to him and to kiss him -- she could feel something in her heart tugging her to take a chance on this _thing_ between them.

_Well, his plane lands in an hour,_ she thought. _You're going to have to figure something out before then_.

xx

_7:30 pm_

Martin sat back in his seat, wringing his hands together nervously once again. He was glad his mother had insisted upon staying in New York all week. Otherwise, his parents would be with him on the plane right now and would insist upon knowing exactly where he was going once they landed.

This, at least, was a little bit easier.

An inadvertent smile played across his lips as he remembered just why he needed to avoid his parents' probing questions.

Samantha.

She was still a complete mystery to him, and that seemed to enthrall him even more. She was beautiful, independent, intelligent, and made him laugh constantly. They had spoken several times that week, and although they had not pursued the topic of their as-yet-undefined relationship, he was hoping to broach the subject with her tonight.

He didn't want to scare her away, but she made him feel something that he'd never felt before. Most of his past girlfriends had simply been girlfriends of convenience: what they lacked depth or ambition or personality, they couldn't make up for in makeup and country club gossip -- not that he was interested in such. He saw the kinds of women who threw themselves at his fellow politicians, and he knew that he wanted nothing to do with that kind of lifestyle. He saw his sisters, his cousin Jamie, his aunt and uncle, his parents -- the ease in which they fell with their spouses, how happy they made each other.

_One day_... came his haphazard musings.

Martin's chest heaved, breathing deeply, and his thoughts absent-mindedly wandered to when he'd returned to his office late Tuesday evening on his way back home.

_"Hey, Beverly," he greeted his secretary as he made his way to his office and picked up the stack of mail and other assorted paperwork that had piled up in only two days' absence. "How was your weekend with your daughter?"_

_"It was great, thank you," she beamed at him proudly. "My husband and I took her to dinner downtown and she told us all about her plans for the summer. She got accepted in a program to study abroad at _

_Oxford!"_

_"That's fantastic," Martin told her, pausing in front of her desk. "Tell her that I studied for a semester in Oxford when I was in college, and I had the time of my life."_

_"I will," Beverly finished whatever she had been typing and turned her attention away from her computer screen. "Your father left you several messages about some dinner on Saturday night, Senator Jansen wants to set up a meeting for early tomorrow morning to discuss the Everett Foundation, and the phones have been ringing off the hook with well-wishers glad that everything turned out alright with Caroline's girls this weekend." She paused to look up at him. "It's nice to see you smiling so much, Senator Fitzgerald. It's been awhile since I've seen you looking so happy."_

_"I'm just so relieved that Kelsey and Bee are alright," he said, although he was sure Beverly knew there was something else._

_"Of course, Senator. Of course. And you tell whoever that young woman of yours is that she'd better keep you smiling this way," she said in a no-nonsense tone. Martin shook his head, laughing but not denying anything. "Though I'm sure practically every other woman in America must be disappointed."_

The plane jerked forward suddenly, and the pilot announced that there would be some turbulence as they prepared to descend. As though the butterflies in his stomach weren't adding enough of a churning sensation, that is.

xx

_8:45 pm_

Sam felt the sound of the buzzer almost before she heard it, her apartment now back to an acceptable degree of upheaval.

"Hey," she greeted him as she opened the door. "Come on in."

She hoped she sounded more confident and self-assured than she felt, and found her eyes scanning down the hallway as she closed the door behind her.

"You looking for someone else?" his lips curved upwards and his eyes sparkled.

"Just your posse," she replied, leading him inside. "Where's my good friend Dennis?"

"Quite honestly, I have no idea. He specializes in making himself appear invisible, and the others follow suit."

"Oh, good," she tilted her head to look up at him. "So, does he ever get a day off?"

"Of course he does. He just likes working any day I might be seeing you."

She feels suddenly stiff and afraid, knowing that the subject they've been avoiding all week is near on the horizon.

"Can I get you something to drink?" her question posed to distract and to delay the inevitable.

"Sure," he answered casually. "I'll have whatever you're having."

She moved purposefully to the kitchen and tried in vain to collect her thoughts. The hard-headed G woman part of her wanted this to stop right where it was, told her that no good could come from it. But there was this other part of her, the part that felt his eyes burn into the back of her form as she stepped about her kitchen, that told her to just shut up and go with how she felt.

And what she was feeling was completely alive -- his eyes still on her, watching her, as she moved back to the living room and lead him to the sofa. She set the two glasses down on the coffee table in front of them, taking extra time to ensure they were placed just so on the coasters.

"Sam -" Martin's voice was soft and reassuring, but insistent.

"I -" she started, but stopped quickly when she saw Martin hold his hands up.

"Before you say 'No' and that we have to be over before we even really _start_, I just want you to know that I really like you, Samantha. This thing between us -- I don't really understand it either. All I know is that I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I met you. I don't need an answer -- not yet. But whenever you're ready or whatever you want, Sam, I'll be here." Sam noticed the way his hands were moving about rather nervously as he spoke, and she felt warm inside when she realized this was the same man she'd seen sound so confident and look so poised when he spoke in Senate sessions or when giving an interview on television.

Sam doesn't know how to answer him. But his nervous rambling came to a slow halt, and she wanted to reassure him that she was slowly coming to the conclusions he seemed to have settled into so easily.

"Well," she stated, "I _do_ like my relationships nice and complicated."

She took his hands in hers and pulled him forward until she could feel his breath on her neck.

"And," her voice became low and throaty as she whispered into his ear, "who am I to give up on a challenge?"

His mouth moved over hers, silencing her instantly, and she gave in to the sensations that traveled down the entire length of her body.

She wasn't sure how long they sat there, each meticulously exploring the other as they continued to make out. It seemed a little bit surreal; she was certain she had to be dreaming. Good things don't happen to her -- and definitely not good things with good men. Men who didn't seem to have anything else to do other than be with her, here, like this. Slowly caressing her back underneath the blouse she wore, moving his hands back outside her shirt to softly run all the way along her sides.

She, too, was focused on her own ministrations. Her hands felt along his face, his jaw line, massaging the skin where his five o'clock shadow had begun to appear. She felt him groan against her lips, and her heart fluttered of its own volition.

She felt his hands creep up further along her sides, brushing briefly against the swell of her breasts as they moved upwards. The split-second contact left her hungry for more but before she could redirect his hands, he pulled away from her for a moment. His eyes studied something on her chest closely, and she almost lifted his chin to question, but then --

"Your shoulder? Is it feeling any better?"

She felt a blush rise up on her cheeks. The bruising had gone down several days before, and she herself didn't even think about it. She was touched, though, that he had.

She nodded. The words caught somewhere in her throat and she found herself unable to speak. All she could do was watch as he slowly leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against her once-bruised skin through the thin material of her blouse.

In that instant, she thought she saw her face reflected against the screen of her television.

But that woman who looked back at her appeared so happy, so carefree; her smile seemed to reach up past her eyes. She almost wasn't sure she was seeing herself at all.

Whoever this new woman was, though, she was beautiful.

xxxxx


	14. Chapter 13

xxxxx

_**chapter thirteen**_

xxxxx

_time expands and then contracts  
when you are spinning in the grips of someone  
who is not an ordinary girl_  
-Counting Crows, "Hard Candy"

xx

_April 12, 2003  
1:35 pm_

"Uncle Marty!"

Martin looked up from the television, where Bubba Trammell had just hit a 2 RBI double to score Posada and Mondesi easily. Kelsey stood at the foot of the stairs between the living room and the kitchen, her hands on her hips and looking very important as she modeled her latest outfit

"What about this dress?" Kelsey asked. The young girl had been trying on every dress in her closet for the past hour.

On the television screen, Almonte flied to center.

"You look beautiful, Kels," Martin replied, not trying to hide his smirk as he heard Tim mutter under his breath.

_"Damnit, Jeter. I miss you already."_

"Mommy! Daddy said a bad word!" Kelsey yelled into the office, where Caro sat on the floor with Bridget. They were playing a two year old's version of Candy Land, which generally consisted of Bridget selecting the exact card she wanted out of the deck and after several such turns, then declare herself the winner. She was a very calculating two year old.

"Tim!" Caroline glared at her husband, then stifled a laugh as Bridget became distressed when she miscalculated her piece into the "Stuck in Molasses Swamp" space.

"Mom, what about this one?" Kelsey spun into the office and kicked up her heels as she went. As long as it was daylight and they were surrounded by family, the girls were improving every day.

"Whatever dress you choose, you're going to be beautiful," Martin said as he got up from the sofa and away from Tim's incessant ramblings about Derek Jeter's dislocated shoulder.

"Where are Grandma and Grandpa?" Kelsey asked suddenly. "Aren't they supposed to be here for dinner too?"

"They're downtown doing some grown-up errands, but we'll see them when we get to the restaurant tonight," Caro answered. Martin watched as she surreptitiously rearranged the cards in Bridget's favor while the small child wasn't watching.

Bridget cried with delight when she "won" on her next move, and Martin laughed silently with his older sister.

"Why don't you two go upstairs and pick out something for Bee to wear, okay?"

The girls nodded their assent, then climbed the stairs slowly, chatting quietly amongst themselves about the fancy dinner their grandfather was having "for them."

"Alright, Caro. I know that look," Martin's voice was laced with sarcasm as he took a seat beside her and leaned back against the desk. "Out with whatever's on your mind."

"Well," she started. He could see her calculating her words carefully, and thought it was no wonder Bridget was such a dirty cheat already -- it was genetic. "Becca happened to mention that you might be having a date at this dinner thing tonight. Is there anything on _your_ mind?"

Call it a sixth sense, but he had a feeling this was coming. At least Rebecca and her husband Scott were stuck in Chicago for the weekend with some huge function that had been in their schedule books for months; that would be one less set of people to torment him.

"And if there were, it would be none of your business Caro." He doesn't mean to sound short with her, but he knew his answer was a little too defensive. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. There isn't anyone tonight _exactly_; this whole thing is pretty new for both of us and I just don't think it would be the right place or time yet."

"And you don't want to tell Mom and Dad anything because then they'll start meddling? Or because then they'll suggest four or five other women who you should be dating _instead_?" Caro joked, although it was less funny given the element of truth that she held.

"Well, that's part of it," he started. "I mean it's really, _really_ new for us. And given the circumstances and what she does, we want to protect our privacy as much as possible for the time being. I promise, when we're ready, you and Rebecca will be the first to know -- but until then, just leave it be." He paused for a moment, considering what he said. Then he added, "I think you'll like her, though."

"Give me a little credit, Marty," Caro said, feigning hurt in her voice. "I can keep my mouth shut if you want - just be glad Becca can't be here. She'd definitely say something tonight, and I completely understand that you and Samantha want to keep things quiet for awhile."

Martin looked at her, stunned. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Oh, shut up!" Caro exclaimed before he had a chance to relocate his voice. "You are so easy to read, you idiot. I may have been preoccupied over the weekend, but I'm not blind. Fortunately for you, Becca and I both approve; Samantha seems wonderful."

Martin blushed, sensing no point in denying her astute observations. It figures, though. His sisters were always far more likely to get him busted for sneaking out as a teenager than his own parents' surveillance.

"Oh, and Marty?" Caro suddenly added. "Don't worry, I won't say anything tonight."

"Thanks," Martin said, unable to do anything else but shake his head in amusement. Sam did say 'nice and complicated, didn't she?

Apparently, though, Caroline wasn't done.

"... although don't blame me if Becca called Jamie and Allison and gave them a heads up."

xx

_5:50 pm_

Martin sat with his family around one end of the long table that stretched the course of the private dining room. At the far end of the table, there were two empty chairs that had been designated for his parents; Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Roger sat just next to the empty seats, cooing over Ava who sat in a high chair between them. Ron and Tim were deep in a conversation about the finer points of Interleague Play while Kelsey and Bridget were completely preoccupied with several coloring books, which Caroline and his cousins completely free to question him before his parents and the Missing Persons Unit arrived.

"So, she's pretty right? Becca said she was," Allison probed.

"She's pretty and she's punctual," Caroline replied with a sudden drop in her voice.

Martin held up a hand as though to hush all three of them, then turned to see two thirds of the Missing Persons team arriving. Vivian and Samantha entered through the glass partition that set their dining room apart, the man accompanying them Martin assumed to be Vivian's husband. He recognized him as the man who had brought pizza in while they were working on the case.

The family exchanged greetings with the three newest arrivals, and Caroline introduced Vivian, Marcus, and Samantha to Jamie and Allison.

He saw Allison give Caro a _"That's her?"_ look, and Caro raised her eyebrows suggestively. But Martin was far too focused on Samantha herself to care what his sister and cousins were doing. Her black dress hung to her just enough to bring back the sensation of holding her, kissing her, touching her like he had the night before. It had taken ever fiber of his being to get up and leave her sofa, but he had promised Caroline he'd stay the night with her and help her and Tim out - both girls were still having nightmares and Bridget had gone back to wetting the bed.

Sam gravitated towards the seat directly to Martin's right, while Vivian and Marcus took the next two seats over on the opposite side of the table. Martin stood, grateful for once for the "my mother sent me to etiquette class" excuse, and pulled out the chair for Samantha to be seated. Glad for the chance to brush his hand against her back as he helped her adjust her chair.

"Hey," she greeted him as he sat back down. He just smiled back.

Martin felt Allison kick him in the shin and Samantha's hand squeeze his thigh underneath the table.

_Yeah,_ he thought. _This is going to be a long night_.

xx

_9:55 pm_

Samantha rested against the plush back of the chair, as she sat sipping her wine and feeling unusually content.

The food had been excellent, and the company even better. Jack and Victor Fitzgerald managed to avoid each other almost the entire evening, which was probably best for both of them. Victor seemed to take to their team rather well since they'd found Kelsey and Bridget, but Jack and Victor getting along might be too much to ask at the present time.

It made her uneasy to think that Victor might know about her past with Jack, especially given the illicit thoughts she was currently having about his only son. She had really wanted Martin to stay with her the night before...

_Samantha noticed how the moment went from hot and heavy to sweet and intimate with just a few touches of his lips against her shoulder. Still, though, it felt good, and she hummed in appreciation._

_"You're beautiful," he whispered against her shoulder. And he repeated it several more times as he trailed kisses up her neck before reaching her jaw line, finally pulling back to look into her eyes. "Samantha -" he breathed._

_She shivered in spite of herself. Not knowing how else to respond, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him in closer to her._

_Their lips met again, and their kisses escalated in intensity and want until Martin finally pulled away._

_"I hate to do this, but I promised my sister that I would give her a hand with the girls tonight and if I'm here any longer, I'm never going to want to leave."_

_She watched as he laughed nervously, resting her hands over his in his lap. He finally stood up from the sofa and adjusted his clothing._

_He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before he left, and when he was gone and she had shut the door behind him, she leaned back against the wall and rubbed her temples._

_'I don't want you to leave, either,' she thought._

Sam was torn from her daydream as the waiter approaches her to ask if she would care for any more wine. She declined, noting that one by one, their party had begun to dwindle in number. First, Caroline and Tim left with the girls and Martin's cousin Jamie and her husband left to go home and relieve their babysitter. After that, the other adults had excused themselves one by one until now only she, Martin, Danny, and Naomi remained.

The four made casual conversation, and Samantha was surprised at how much fun she was having. She was almost disappointed when Naomi finally stood to collect her coat and Danny followed suit.

Martin cast a glance in her direction, and she nodded in assent. The two rose from the table and moved to the front of the restaurant to where Danny and Naomi stood trying to hail a cab.

Sam felt Martin's arm wrap around her waist as they stood waiting for his car to pull up. She noticed that several of his Secret Service Agents were close by and watching them, but otherwise the street was relatively empty for that time of night. Up ahead, she saw Danny help Naomi into a cab and stand, watching the cab drive off, before heading to the street corner and descending into the steps of the nearest subway station.

"What's between them?" Martin whispered into her ear as his car pulled up.

"I have no idea," she said, reaching an unspoken agreement with him as she climbed into the car. "I'm not sure they know, either."

He climbed in after her and shut the car door.

"Hi," he said finally, and she shivered as he reached up to stroke her face along her hairline.

"Hey," she offered him a shy smile as the car pulled into traffic. They sat together in the backseat for a few moments, and she was acutely aware of her own nerves. This was absolutely crazy, being here with him, going back to his place. But as crazy as it was, when he looked at her she knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself. His eyes were trained on her like they could see deeper inside than any other man had been able to see before, and she was sure that if she let go now she was going to drown.

"So," she started, willing playfulness to replace the uncertainty she was feeling. It was surprisingly easy to do when she looked up into his eyes. "Can he see us up there?" She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head towards the front of the vehicle, where they sat separated from the driver by a tinted glass partition.

"He can't hear us, either," he said. "Well, unless we want him to."

She grabbed his arm as he leaned forward to press the audio button up against the side of the car, falling into his lap in the process.

In spite of the heat of the car, she felt a shiver run down her spine. She leaned forward to capture his lips with her own, pinning him against the back of the seat.

She felt his hands run across her waist and onto her lower back, and she realized that in that moment, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

xxxxx


	15. Chapter 14

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: The following chapter is NC-17. If that isn't your cup of tea, feel free to continue on to the next chapter; this one isn't essential to the plotline (unless you want it to be).

xxxxx_**  
**_

_**chapter fourteen**_

xxxxx_  
_

_you take me in, __no questions asked__  
__you strip away the ugliness __that surrounds me__  
__are you an angel__, am i already that gone?__  
__i only hope__ that i won't disappoint you__  
__when i'm down here__ on my knees_

_and sweet, sweet__  
__sweet surrender__  
__is all that i have to give_  
-Sarah McLachlan, "Sweet Surrender"

xx_  
_

_11:00 pm_

"Sam -" Samantha felt him breathe her name into her ear. She could barely concentrate on his words, though, as her senses were already being flooded by the indistinct patterns his hands were tracing on her thighs, just underneath the hem of her knee-length black dress.

"Sam." He was a little more insistent this time. "We're here."

She slowly and reluctantly extracted herself from Martin's lap, her lips rounded to form a small _'O.'_

He laughed before taking her hand and pulling her from the car. He motioned to the car behind them, where Dennis was waving to them.

"I think he likes you," Martin whispered.

They laughed their way up his front steps, and she felt his arms wrap around her as he stood behind her. She melted against him as he planted kisses along her neck and shoulders. She could feel his arousal pressing against her back as he held her flush against him and fumbled with his key in the lock.

His front door finally swung open and they stepped inside. She turned around to face him, and they were finally alone.

The look on his face had become tentative, though. Obviously giving her the chance to slow things down if she wanted to.

The thing was, she didn't want to slow things down at all.

So she reached out to take hold of his hands, tugging him towards the stairwell.

She wasn't sure how they made it up the stairs and into what she presumed was his bedroom. She turned her head to take in her surroundings: the room was decorated, but clearly not lived in very often. Dark wood furniture, navy blue bedspread, a few photos lined atop the dresser and nightstand - all of Martin with his family. The personal touches were subtle but seemed very obviously Martin, and she found herself wondering how his home in Washington compared.

He tilted her chin up with his index finger, their breath mingling in the moonlight that bathed the room.

She grabbed his tie and pulled her closer to him. "So... we're really alone?" her whisper came from low in her throat. "Dennis and company aren't outside with binoculars?"

"Mmmm, nope," was all that he could mumble as he leaned in against her lips, kissing her again.

She took that as an open invitation, fumbling to remove his jacket and tie while her tongue dueled with his. The taste and feel of kissing Martin was still new to her.

His lips moved down to her neck and collarbone as she began to move nimble fingers over the buttons of his dress shirt. She felt him groan against her when she finally removed his shirt to trace indistinct shapes across the smooth skin on his chest.

His hands were exploring her back now, reaching up to grab hold of her zipper. The next thing she knew, they had fallen back against the bed, clad only in their underwear, and she was straddling him. They were still sitting, chests pressed together, in their heated embrace when he slowly slid one of the straps of her bra off of her shoulder. He leaned forward to place languid kisses on her skin as he moved the material away, until finally snaking his hands around to her back to release the clasp.

She couldn't help but watch him as he turned his attention to her newly-exposed cleavage. He looked at her with such a genuine affection shining in his eyes; it was unlike any other man she had even known. She gasped at the first sensation of his gentle hands stroking her breasts and leaned forward, needing to kiss him again.

Somehow, he managed to carefully roll them over so that she rested underneath him, his weight hovering comfortably over her as he continued to focus his attention on her chest. She ran her hands along the smooth muscles of his chest and stomach, marveling at how fit he was.

Then, his mouth trailed down her neck to replace his hands at her breasts, and all coherent thought left her momentarily. She moaned and arched her body against him as he sucked on one breast, then the other.

She could feel the dampness between her legs increasing rapidly, her whole body alive with anticipation. His mouth left her cleavage, and she felt the loss intensely until just moments later, when his fingers slipped inside her panties and began to drag them slowly down her legs and off.

She reached out to draw him up on top of her again, and he removed his boxers before climbing carefully back over top of her. He leaned down to kiss her again, and she felt one of his hands trail down her abdomen, snaking down in between her thighs.

His hand maneuvered through the wiry hair to rub against her clitoris, and there was no way for her to hide her sharp intake of breath as he increased the pressure. Her hips thrust upwards when he entered her with one finger, and she felt him smile against her lips.

Then suddenly, one finger became two and she gasped and spasmed against him. Her eyes closed, her orgasm overtaking her as she shuddered pleasurably in his arms.

As the sensations subsided, he held her and trailed gentle kisses along her face. She opened her eyes, and he was watching her.

"Hi," he whispered huskily.

"Mmmm, hey," was all she could manage to reply. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her.

She captured his lips with her own once again, tongues darting out as their kiss deepened.

"You okay?" Martin broke the kiss to ask her.

She answered him by wrapping her arms tighter around his back. She knew she was more than ready. She could feel him pressing against her, and she ached to have him fill her.

She felt him slide inside of her, slowly thrusting until she shifted her hips to urge him on. They quickly found a rhythm that worked for both of them, her hips thrusting against his, her legs wrapped around him to allow him to penetrate deeper. The only sounds that filled the room that of their soft moaning and throaty cries as their paced quickened once again.

Her inner muscles began to contract and spasm around him, and she threw her head back against the mattress as she climaxed. Her eyes closed in ecstasy and panting hard, she felt him follow just a few thrusts later, penetrating deeply as he spilled into her.

They lay together as they recovered. His hot breath pulsed against her throat, his heart still beating erratically in time with hers. When he finally extracted himself from her grasp and rolled over, she found that she missed his comfortable weight on top of her, and she sighed at the loss.

"Don't wanna crush you," he murmured, placing soft kisses in her hair. One hand roamed down to her hip, rolling her onto her side, and he moved to spoon up behind her. His kisses trailed down to her shoulder. "Is this alright?" He asked.

"It's perfect -" she breathed quietly. She knew that things were going to get exponentially complicated when he went back to Washington on Monday, but she was determined to savor this moment for what it was. After a few minutes' contented silence, she tilted her head to a slight angle.

"Yes?" she felt him mumble against her shoulder blade.

There were a thousand thoughts running through her mind, and she paused a moment, feigning deep thought. Then she smiled, her voice teasing playfully. "I was just thinking... if this had been one of your campaign promises, I think the female turnout for the election would have been a lot higher. You'd better not do this for all of your constituents..."

"Nope," he laughed and wrapped his arm tighter around her waist. "Only the really cute ones."

xxxxx


	16. Chapter 15

xxxxx_**  
**_

_**chapter fifteen**_

xxxxx_  
_

_and now the state line  
felt like the berlin wall_  
-Death Cab for Cutie, "Crooked Teeth"

xx

_April 24, 2003  
8:05 am_

Samantha smiled to herself as she boarded the elevator and pressed the '12' button until it lit up. While the fact that she was running a few minutes late would normally make her nervous and tense, this morning she rode the elevator in an easy silence. Martin was coming into town that afternoon for an early dinner meeting with the mayor, and he would be staying until Sunday morning. He was meeting up with a few old friends that evening, but they had plans to spend the rest of the weekend together.

She exited the elevator and walked briskly down the hallway, running into Naomi and Jack along the way.

"Morning, Sam," Naomi called as they headed in opposite directions. "So nice of you to join us."

"I got held up on the way here," she shrugged casually. Carefully omitting that the hold up had actually been Martin's early morning phone call and not traffic. Between their busy schedules, coordinating phone calls had not come easily.

Naomi and Jack disappeared down the other end of the hallway, and she sat down at her desk and began to clear her messages, waiting for the next move in the case they were working on. Danny and Vivian were out interviewing coworkers while she was going back over the paper trail. From the looks of it, they would be down two agents for the morning while Jack and Naomi were going over testimony with the DA's office about the Spaulding trial.

As she began to go over pages and pages of credit card records with nothing standing out as out of the ordinary, her mind began to wander back to almost two weeks ago, to the morning after the Four Seasons dinner.

_She yawned and stretched her arms as she awoke that Sunday morning. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, but she could feel Martin's heart beating below her as her head rested on his chest. She had fallen asleep against his side when they had finally succumbed to exhaustion late in the night._

_Martin's arm was wrapped around her lower back, and she felt it pull her closer in to him. He knew she was awake._

_"Mmm, morning." He mumbled against her hair as he spoke._

_She smiled and opened her eyes. "Hey. How long have you been up?"_

_"Not too long, I don't think." He replied. "I usually wake up early on the weekends to go for a run, but I don't think I really need the exercise today."_

_His eyes sparkled as they met hers, and she felt the last vestiges of sleep fade away. She laughed against him. "Yeah, I haven't had a workout like that since I was at Quantico..."_

_"You know," he tilted her chin with his free hand. "I was seriously considering joining the FBI for awhile."_

_"Really?" She asked, and he nodded his head. "White Collar would have loved you with your background in financial consulting."_

_He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Ugh, don't remind me about all the time I wasted at the Dalton Corporation. It's funny to think, though. We could have met anyway."_

_She smiled at his hopeless optimism. "Yeah, but then we probably wouldn't be right here, right now... They don't exactly encourage agents to get involved. And they're right, it isn't really such a great idea."_

_She paused, wondering if she'd said too much._

_"You sound like you're speaking from personal experience," he said. His tone wasn't accusatory, and she figured her secret was safe for now. She knew she had to tell him. It would be far worse for him to find out through the grapevine - or worse, from his father. But now, only two days after they had officially decided to see where things went, it didn't feel like the right time._

She swallowed before offering her retort. "Maybe I am." She craned her neck so that she could kiss him, "But I'm here with you now, am I not?"

_She moved to lie on top of him, running her hands through the tangled locks of his messy bed head before bringing his face forward to kiss him deeper._

_He broke the kiss long enough to murmur. "Yes, you are."_

_And then he pulled her back down to capture her lips once more._

xx_  
_

_Washington, DC  
10:40 am_

"Martin?" Colin Adair leaned forward from his seat to place the in-flight entertainment brochure back in its proper position.

Martin turned his head to signal that he was paying attention.

"How long are you staying in the city?" Colin inquired, taking out his palm pilot to sort through his schedule.

"I was planning on flying back Sunday morning."

Colin looked pensive for a moment before commenting. "That's a long stay for a dinner meeting. I thought your sister and her kids were out of town this weekend."

"Uh, yeah," Martin answered, choosing his words carefully. "Caro, Tim and the kids are up at the Cape this weekend. They thought the beach might do the girls some good." Martin paused, wanting to change the subject as soon as possible. He had a feeling that if they continued in their current conversation, he would soon let something slip. He didn't like keeping his relationship with Samantha a secret, but he knew that, at the same time, it was wise to protect her privacy for as long as possible. It was a necessary evil for the time being.

"Has your son decided on a grad school program yet?"

Colin began rambling incessantly on the merits of the various engineering programs that were courting his youngest son. Martin sat back in his seat and carefully tuned out his older colleagues idle chatter, instead choosing to remember his early morning phone call with Sam, and the last Sunday morning that they had spent together...

_His heart was still beating rapidly in his chest as his breathing slowly evened out again. Sam had collapsed on top of him after their early morning lovemaking, her sweaty form nestled against his chest and her head buried in the crook of his neck._

_It felt comfortable and real, and he didn't want the feeling to end._

_Sam was everything that the debutantes and socialites in Washington were not. She was strong-willed and independent, more than capable of making up her own mind and taking care of herself. She was complex, and he knew there were many layers of Samantha Spade that he had yet to uncover. But as he hugged her naked form closer to him and her body relaxed further against his, he knew that it was worth the risks just to discover what those layers are._

_The thought sent a chill down his spine._

_"Mmm," she murmured against him. "What are you thinking?"_

_He wanted to keep the mood light and comfortable between them, so he veered away from the serious musings of just moments before and turned back to their previous conversation on how he had considered joining the Bureau. "Oh, nothing much. Just fate, destiny, the stars aligning to bring us here together..."_

_She shook her head. "You've been watching too many Meg Ryan movies."_

_"What's wrong? You don't like a good chick flick Agent Spade?"_

_She pulled the covers up around her, shivering as she spoke. "Nah, I prefer to watch movies that don't belong on Lifetime."_

_They lay together in comfortable silence for several minutes, neither one wanting to move. He, in particular, was dreading the thought that he would have to return to Washington late that evening._

_"So, then," he finally said. "What were you doing in the woods that day at Delia Rivers' Memorial Service?"_

_He felt her body go tense against his, and he worried he had pushed too much. He held his breath while he waited for her reply._

_"I was thinking about my sister," she whispered, her voice tinged with regret. "My father left us about three weeks before my grandmother died. Mom was so distracted with my grandmother being sick that she never really explained things to me..."_

_Martin felt her slowly begin to relax again as she recounted her childhood tale. He knew Sam didn't like to talk about her past, but was grateful that she felt comfortable enough to share this with him. He rubbed her back to sooth her as she told him of her five year old self's conceptual mix-up, feeling an intense sadness that she had endured so much loss at such a young age. He thought of his own nieces and wondered what could have possessed Sam's father to leave his own children behind._

_"... You know, the funny thing is that Lindsey never asked me why I was looking for him there." She said as she finished her story. "I guess she must have known, though. It reminded me of where he used to take us camping."_

_His eyebrows creased inquisitively; he was learning new things about her by the second. "You used to go camping?"_

_"Yeah," she said. "We, uh, never really had the money to go away on vacation. But once a year, Dad used to get out this ratty old tent that he had and take Linds and I away for the weekend. I don't remember much about it, but we used to have a blast."_

_He smiled at her. "I used to go camping all the time."_

_"Don't tell me: Boy Scouts," she whacked him playfully on the shoulder._

_He rolled her off of him and onto her side, yanking the covers with him and leaving her nude form for him to admire._

_"Hey!" She yelped and grabbed at the bedspread. "What was that for?"_

_He propped his head on his elbow and held the covers protectively against him._

_"Always be prepared," he admonished._

_She laughed._

xx_  
_

_New York City  
10:00 pm_

"So, how are things _really_ going in Washington?"

Martin looked up from his drink long enough to wave a hand at Ralph. After dinner with Senator Adair and Mayor Bloomberg, he had met up with a couple of his old college friends at one of their apartments. He, Peter, Ralph, and Christopher had all been roommates in college, and they had managed to remain friends in spite of the fact that they were all at different points in their lives. Ralph had a wife at home with their young toddler, Peter usually worked fifteen hour days on Wall Street, and Christopher liked to change jobs every eight months or so just to add variety to his life.

"Things in Washington are fine," he said simply, not really wanting to delve into the inner workings of Capitol Hill in his present slightly inebriated state.

"Oh, come on!" Christopher exclaimed. "You've probably got a different chick each night of the week. You should at least tell us about _some_ of them."

Martin rolled his eyes; Christopher was never going to grow up.

"Marty's not like that and you know it." From the tone of voice, he guessed Peter was half defending him and half mocking him. "Seriously, though," Peter turned to face him, "Aren't you getting pressure from all sides to settle down? Isn't it basically a requirement?"

He shrugged. "There are plenty of women in DC, but none of them are very interesting."

_There's a pretty interesting one who lives just downtown, though_, he mused.

He sat back in his seat, grateful that Peter interjected a story about the crazed late night happenings of his Wall Street office: proof that overworked businessmen ought to be on limited caffeine allocations.

The four friends continued to play catch-up on each others' lives until Ralph finally rose from his chair. "I should get home to Angela and Brendan," he explained. "It's been too long, though. We need to do this again soon."

The other three nodded in agreement.

"I should probably get going myself," Martin said, moving towards the door and pulling on his light jacket.

He said his goodbyes and boarded the elevator with Ralph. On ground level, Ralph hailed a cab while Martin waited for his driver to pull around the corner.

"You take care of yourself, Senator," Ralph teased, stepping forward to open the door of the cab that was waiting for him. "And don't think too much about what dumb and dumber said. If I were a betting man, I'd say you'll find someone _years_ before they do."

Martin shrugged his shoulders as Ralph's cab pulled away, moving quickly towards his own car that was just pulling up.

"Home, sir?" his driver inquired as he climbed into the backseat.

Martin considered for a moment before disagreeing and giving him Samantha's address instead.

xxxxx


	17. Chapter 16

xxxxx

_**chapter sixteen**_

xxxxx

_and when your blood is gone, how will you survive?_

_and your dreams, they don't stay in your mind  
they are hiding in the night  
and you think that this will be alright_

-Azure Ray, "How Will You Survive"

xx

_April 27, 2003  
Arlington, VA  
8:30 pm_

Martin heaved a sigh and took in the scene around him: he stood in the entrance hallway of Senator Kingsley's Arlington home where diplomats and other assorted government officials had gathered for no real or apparent purpose other than caviar and champagne.

He had always thought these gatherings were the worst part of the duties of a politician. Aside from the free cocktails, he was certain he would never attend one of these functions of his own free will. He lacked interest in the Capitol Hill gossip and had absolutely no desire to form under-the-table alliances with his fellow Senators. He hadn't needed dirty dealings to win the past election, and he had privately vowed that he would never allow his career to come to that. He knew he was a man of his word and had nothing to hide, and he intended to keep things that way.

"Senator Fitzgerald," Lynn Kingsley, Senator Kingsley's wife, broke his silent contemplations. "You're looking well this evening."

"As are you," he replied, giving his best professional smile and reaching out to shake her hand. As she gave a small nod of her head, he wondered if she knew that her husband was in the next room flirting with the attractive young law student who was doing an internship in constitutional law. He gave her a small wave of encouragement as he resigned himself to his usual cocktail party mingling.

After about ten minutes of exchanging casual hellos and forced pleasantries, Martin finally spotted his senior senator across the crowded living room floor.

"Martin!" Colin Adair called out enthusiastically, motioning for Martin to join his small conversation circle. "I didn't think you'd be back from New York in time to join us."

"I got in a couple of hours ago." Martin felt his entire body relax as he joined Colin, Nancy, and two men he recognized from the Department of Justice. There were few people from Capitol Hill that Martin genuinely liked, and Colin Adair was one of them.

"So, how was New York?" Nancy inquired.

He nodded slowly. "It was fine."

"It's really starting to warm up there finally," one of the DOJ officials spoke up.

"Yeah, it is." He replied, grateful once again for all of his practice at confirming half truths and making polite small talk.

Truthfully, he hadn't ventured outside much over the course of the weekend. Neither he nor Sam felt like introducing their relationship to the public yet; thus, their only real change of scenery occurred in moving from her apartment on Thursday night to his home Friday evening. And even that came very carefully. She had been at work and had come over when she had finished there, while he had visited with his aunt and uncle, making his way home after he had finished catching up at the Toland's.

_"Mom? Dad?"_

_Martin heard Allison's voice carry out over the back patio to where he sat with Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Roger._

_"We're out back, Ally." Bonnie called out to her younger daughter._

_"How was school?" Roger asked as Allison came into view, her backpack flung haphazardly over one shoulder._

_"Eh, it was fine." Allison shrugged, turning to face her parents. "Marty!" She exclaimed, when she noticed her older cousin sitting alongside them. "What are you doing here?"_

_He stood to hug the teenager. "Nothing much. I was in town and I wanted to stop by and see you guys. I hear junior prom is coming up..."_

_"Allison is going with Mark Little's son." Bonnie said. Martin and Roger laughed, and Allison shrugged and smiled._

_"Isn't he the same kid who you were always with at the pool in the summer?" Martin asked._

_"Yeah. His name's Robert." Allison replied._

_"He finally forgave her for always beating him at the 100 meter breaststroke," Roger grinned teasingly. Martin knew Roger was proud of Allison's competitive spirit. It had come naturally to Allison, though; after all, she had spent her entire childhood trying to catch up to Martin, Jamie, Caroline and Rebecca._

_"Dad!" Allison groaned, embarrassed at her father's playful chatter. "Enough already! So, what about you Marty? Are you here for the weekend, or do you have some big charity social event that you have to go to?" But before Martin could even put together an excuse, Allison caught on. "Oooooh."_

_"What, Ally?" Bonnie asked._

_"Oooooh," Allison grinned mischievously. Martin glared at her, but he knew he had been caught. "Marty's got a girlfriend!" She exclaimed triumphantly._

_"Marty, that's great!" Bonnie's spoke quickly, eyes shining with excitement. "Tell us about her!"_

_Martin felt his face flush. "There isn't a lot to tell. We've only been seeing each other for a few weeks."_

_"You met her, Mom." Allison was obviously glad to deflect the teasing to someone else. "She was at the dinner thing that Uncle Victor had."_

_Both Roger and Bonnie turned to look at him expectantly._

_"Her, uh, her name is Samantha. We met about a month ago when I came into town for that memorial service. I didn't see her again until Kels and Bridge... things just kind of went from there." He suddenly felt shy and unsure: though he knew he could trust his aunt and uncle, he was still coming to terms with the young relationship. He tried to fight the ominous feeling that things had been too easy for them as of yet, even in spite of the difficulties presented by living several states apart. "We're, uh... we're keeping things quiet for awhile. Between her work and mine, it just wouldn't be a good idea yet."_

_"Of course," Roger agreed. "That makes sense. As long as you're happy, we're happy for you."_

_Martin smiled. Sometimes, he wished he could speak so openly with his own parents._

xx

_10:05 pm_

Over an hour later, Martin found himself aimlessly wandering around the now-mostly-intoxicated crowd of Washington's finest, anxious for the earliest opportunity to make a discrete exit.

Just as he thought he spotted an escape route, Colin Adair approached him once again.

"Martin -" Colin's voice sounded hushed and urgent. "Martin, I've been trying to get you alone all evening."

He felt his eyebrows arch in confusion. "Is something wrong?"

Colin shook his head. "Not here."

Colin motioned for him to follow, and they finally found themselves alone in the kitchen, where most of the event staff had dispersed to their various assignments.

"Those two from DOJ didn't manage to corner you tonight, did they?" Colin asked.

"No, the only time I even saw them was when they were talking to you. Is something wrong?"

Colin released a heavy breath. "You could say that. Has your father mentioned anything about an investigation that they're running out of the New York branch of the Bureau?"

"Not that I can remember." He shrugged his shoulders; he had no idea where this was heading.

"Well, apparently your father was in favor of it until a couple of weeks ago, and now he seems a little more hesitant. You don't know what this is about?"

Martin began to mentally review every conversation he'd had with his father in the past month, but came up empty. He shook his head slowly. "I have no idea."

"I would suggest you figure out what's going on quickly." Colin's advice was, as always, stern but genuine. "This is about Anwar Samir, and DOJ has had one hell of a field day trying to keep it all under wraps."

"I'm sorry, who?" He felt his body tense in frustration, and he lifted a hand to massage his temple.

"Anwar Samir-- Oh, of course. _That's_ why you don't remember! It must have been about two weeks before you were sworn in..." Colin moved closer, his voice now coming in a whisper. "JTTF and one of the teams from the Manhattan office took out a Saudi man who was a resident at one of the local hospitals. I still don't know many of the details and, from what I can see, it looks like they didn't have much of a choice but to take him out: they found him in a dorm where a bomb was set to go off, and he had killed before... I doubt they had time to stop and ask questions. But DOJ is looking to take someone down for it, and up until a few weeks ago, they had your father's full support."

"And now?" Martin asked, still struggling to make sense of what was being said.

"And now, he's more hesitant; I don't know anything more than that. You should talk to your father about it."

"I will," Martin breathed deeply as he replied, trying to ignore the throbbing headache he had developed. "You'd better get back before Nancy comes looking for you."

Colin laughed quietly as he moved toward the door. "No. She found Lynn Kingsley about half an hour ago; I'd be surprised if I hear from her for the rest of the night."

The kitchen doors swung open and shut behind his elder colleague, and Martin found himself alone in the dark room, relieved by the silence. He could slip out now completely unnoticed, and no one would be any the wiser.

He made his way out the side door and into the cool evening air, and while he waited for the driver to bring his car back around, he fought the ominous feeling in his gut. And he knew that there was someone else he wanted to call before he ever spoke to his father about this Anwar Samir.

xx

_New York City  
10:30 pm_

Samantha shivered as she exited the shower and wrapped her robe tightly around her small frame for warmth. Her super had turned on the air conditioning sometime on Friday, and she hadn't been home the entire weekend, which resulted in her apartment being about 20 degrees too cold when she returned from Martin's. She silently cursed her super for setting her thermostat so low; eight hours later, it was still too cool for her liking.

She smiled to herself when she noticed an extra toothbrush sitting by her sink. _Martin_. He must have left it when he had been here on Thursday night.

She felt a chill run through her body that had nothing to do with the air conditioning; there was a certain degree of excitement at a tangible reminder of him. Their entire relationship thus far was a whirlwind -- everything was happening so fast, she wasn't sure if she even believed it herself. His toothbrush made everything seem suddenly that much more real, and the thought both thrilled her and terrified her all at the same time.

She picked her blow dryer up off the sink top, humming quietly to herself under the heavy stream of hot air. Her body warmed up almost instantly -- maybe not entirely from the hair dryer, although she would not allow herself to admit it.

And as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror feeling more rested and relaxed than she had been in months, she couldn't hear her cell phone vibrating from its resting place on her dresser.

xxxxx


	18. Chapter 17

xxxxx

_**chapter seventeen**_

xxxxx

_i can't say i really blame you  
for being bored with the beginning  
always staring at the score  
to figure out who's barely winning  
but don't you know?  
there is a reason strong, move slow_  
-John Mayer, "Tracing"

xx

_April 28, 2003  
10:15 am_

Samantha sighed audibly as Martin's phone went straight to voice mail. He had said it was "urgent," but she had no idea what he was referring to. This was the first chance she'd found to call him in private since she'd noticed the missed call when she arrived at work that morning, and the more time that passed, the more far-fetched her theories became. She almost left him a message, but then decided against it, flipping her phone shut in frustration. Whatever it was, it would have to wait.

"Hey, Sam," Naomi approached the coffee machine in the break room, looking as heavy-hearted as Sam felt.

"What time are you and Jack due back in court?" she asked as Naomi refilled her mug and the two began to walk back to the bullpen.

"2:30," Naomi replied, subdued. "I can't say I'm really looking forward to it."

"How can Andy not remember anything?" Her hands flailed to the side as she spoke, motioning in her disbelief.

"It's one of the body's defense mechanisms -- it just shuts down. I mean, we see it all the time: trauma, rape, your brain just shuts it out." Naomi shrugged her shoulders helplessly, bringing her mug to her lips.

"Yeah, but Spaulding basically confessed to you in the car. I mean, he took you right to him." She felt the knot in her stomach growing rapidly.

Naomi laughed bitterly. "Except now Spaulding's lawyer wants to keep _that_ out too."

"Based on what?"

Naomi sighed, leaning over the fax machine to pick up several extraneous sheets of paper and running her free hand through her hair aimlessly. "They're claiming that Spaulding requested a lawyer during the drive and that we flat-out refused."

She arched her eyebrows in response. "But that's crazy!" She thought twice, though; it wouldn't be the first time Jack had ignored Miranda rights for the sake of the victim. "It _is_ crazy, isn't it?"

"Of course it's crazy." Naomi assured her. Sam, however, did not find herself particularly reassured.

"You're not going to throw something else at me, are you? Like the photos have been thrown out or Patrick McCullough has suddenly fled the country?" She mentally reviewed all of their scheduled witnesses and evidence, wondering how many other holes Spaulding's lawyer would try to punch in their case.

"No." Naomi shook her head, then tilted her neck to one side. "Did we get another case in?"

She spun around, her eyes landing on the conference table where the rest of the team had assembled. Danny and Vivian were deep in conversation, while Jack just sat sullenly at the head of the table. She knew Jack, and whatever this was, his body language was not sending off positive messages.

"I don't think so," she replied, and walked briskly with Naomi to join their coworkers at the table. "Hey... what's going on?"

Danny and Vivian became instantly quiet as Jack replied.

"Washington wants an internal review of the Anwar Samir case..."

xx

_11:45 am_

Samantha leaned forward on her desk, propping her head with one hand and massaging the back of her neck with the other. As hard as she tried to focus on the old case file she had in front of her, her efforts went unrewarded. She had doubts that they could "give OPR what they want and get them the hell out of here" quickly, as Jack had put it.

"I just don't understand why they're opening this up again," she shrugged to Vivian, who was passing her desk at that moment. "Naomi has been in there for over an hour. They need to finish up soon; I thought Rossi wanted to see her _and_ Jack again before Adderly grills them this afternoon."

"It's best not to think about it," Vivian advised. "I was thinking about running downstairs to get something to eat. Do you want to join me?"

She offered Vivian a tight smile and shook her head. Vivian walked towards the elevator, turning to give her an encouraging wave. And although Sam always appreciated Vivian's ability to sooth tense situations, she was glad for the few minutes of peace and quiet.

She briefly considered trying to catch Martin on his lunch break. Or, one of his many lunch breaks. He had explained to her that he often tried to break several times during the day to grab something to eat -- if for no other reason than to get a few minutes' fresh air and to escape committee sessions. She let out a small laugh at the idea that a man like Martin would find himself in politics. Of course, the Martin she knew was intense and passionate, he genuinely cared for people. That much was evident just from the few times she observed him with his family during the time surrounding his nieces' disappearance. And in the few weeks that they had been together, she was beginning to find more and more things about his personality that drew her to him.

The problem was, he wasn't at all her type. Her men of the past were all of similar molds: either sad and dark or unavailable -- or both. She always considered herself much better off that way; minimizing the emotional commitment minimized the emotional blow when the relationship inevitably ended.

And what scared her the most about Martin, she found, was that being with him didn't scare her nearly as much as she thought it should.

_"So when was this taken?" Sam asked as she leaned over the armrest of the sofa, picking up the picture frame that sat on the end table. It was Saturday afternoon, and after sleeping in to recover from their late night, they found themselves sprawled out on either end of the sofa, half-watching whatever movie happened to be on._

_The photo looked like it had been taken within the past couple of years: Martin, Caroline, and Rebecca stood on a beach, beaming at the camera. Behind them, the ocean seemed to stretch out for miles._

_"Almost four years ago," Martin tilted his head, remembering. "That was the summer we tried to teach Tim how to sail. Needless to say, that didn't go over well..." He laughed to himself._

_"You sail?" She asked. Not that the information really surprised her._

_"Yeah, since I was a kid," he said. "My high school had a team."_

_Sam grinned and shook her head in amusement. "Why does that not surprise me?"_

_"Hey now!" He called out, feigning a look of feigned hurt and crossing his arms indignantly. "I am a man of many mysteries."_

_"Wouldn't you like to think that?" She teased, turning to put the frame back in its proper place._

_"Well," he said, inching closer to where she sat. "Obviously I'm no match for you, Agent Spade. But don't think that I'm not on to your act -- because I am."_

_"As long as you know you're no match for me, then I think we'll be okay," she teased, rolling her eyes. "Knowing how to quit gracefully when you're overmatched; they don't teach that at Quantico..."_

_"I bet they don't teach this at Quantico, either." He said throatily, leaning in to crush his lips on hers._

_"No," she laughed, pulling away from him just long enough to answer. "But maybe you should talk to your dad about it..."_

The door of Jack's office opened and shut with such force that it shook Sam from her thoughts. She threw her head around in time to catch Naomi stepping briskly towards the break room, muttering silently to herself.

Sam hesitated, then stood up to follow. She found Naomi standing with her back to the door, her entire body looking tense and heavy with stress.

Sam approached her cautiously, trying not to startle her.

"How did it go?" She asked quietly.

Naomi looked up slowly and nodded at Sam in acknowledgement. "It was fine," she said finally. Naomi took a deep breath and threw her shoulders back forcefully. "I should grab some coffee and start making my way back to court. I still need to talk to Rossi."

Sam watched her friend turn to leave, musing silently that she may have been taught how to read people at Quantico, but she didn't need her FBI training to know that Naomi was far from "fine."

xx

_2:45 pm_

"Can't you go any faster?" She hissed at her computer screen, audibly willing the machine to move faster. She was going through the list of original suspects in the disappearance of Carrie Wilkins, whose body may or may not have been found over the weekend. While the dental comparisons were still running, the family had heard a radio report that their daughter's body had been found.

After twenty minutes of trying to calm a distraught mother and ten more of Danny angrily lamenting his time with OPR's Agent Farrell, Sam found herself anxious to run cross checks on any of the original suspects to see if they might have any links to the area where the girl's body was found. As several months' exposure to the elements had washed away any trace evidence on the body, any link that she could find might be a huge break in the case. Otherwise, Sam knew it would go cold in a matter of a few days' time.

"Agent Spade?" Agent Farrell opened the door of Jack's office just enough to poke his head out. "I'm ready."

She nodded slowly, raising her hand to imply that she would be there in one second.

She minimized the document on her screen, rising from her chair and moving files aimlessly around her desk. After seeing both Naomi and Danny's reactions to the investigation, she knew she needed to have her defenses ready and easily accessible.

Agent Farrell's stern, sneering voice echoed in her head as she stepped purposefully towards Jack's office.

_I'm ready_, he had said.

"Yeah," she spoke quietly, to nobody in particular. "But I'm not."

xxxxx


	19. Chapter 18

xxxxx

_**chapter eighteen**_

xxxxx

_it's become just like a chemical stress  
tracing the lines in my face for  
something more beautiful than is there  
i've barely been gone_  
-Rilo Kiley, "My Slumbering Heart"

xx

_Washington, DC  
3:00 pm_

"Senator Fitzgerald," his father's long-time secretary, Margaret, greeted him. "So nice to see you again."

"You too, Margaret," he said, waving absent-mindedly. "Is my father still in?"

She nodded, motioning towards his father's closed office door. "I'll let him know you're here."

"He's not in an important meeting, is he?" Martin asked, turning his gaze to glance at Margaret, who shook her head. "Then I'll just let myself in."

She gave him a small smile, and he nodded his head determinedly. His hand on the door knob, he paused long enough to take a deep breath before turning the knob and letting himself in.

His father was sitting forward in his desk chair, looking extremely stressed as he barked replies into the telephone.

"No! ... No, I said for them to handle it..." Victor looked up, meeting his son's gaze and mouthing _'one minute'_ to Martin. "Listen, Leonard, you're going to have to pick up the slack on this one... No, I'm running interference on something else right now. Listen, I have to go now anyway... Just take care of it."

"Dad?" he asked, observing his father's tense but professional demeanor.

"Sorry, son. We've had a situation come up in the Charlotte field office, and they seem to be incapable of handling things on their own," his father let out a sigh of disapproval that he knew only too well. "What do I owe this pleasure?"

Victor stood from his desk to shake Martin's hand.

"What the hell is going on, Dad?" he asked, knowing it was better not to beat around the bush when his father was concerned.

"Excuse me, Martin?" His father did not skip a beat.

Martin stiffened his posture defensively, preparing himself for confrontation. "You know what I'm talking about. I'm just lucky that Colin Adair thought enough to warn me about what was going on before the DOJ cornered me outside the Senate Chamber this morning."

"Martin--" his father said warningly.

"Don't give me that. You could have at least warned me that it was about the Missing Persons team!" Martin yelled, remembering the sense of panic that had arisen within him when he learned that morning that it was Samantha's team that was being investigated. "They saved Kelsey and Bridget's lives... Did you just forget, or do you not give a damn?"

"Of course I remember, Martin!" His father matched his tone in intensity. "Why do you think I've been trying to divert the investigation? Do you think I've just been sitting on my ass for the past three weeks? I was informed of this well over a month ago."

"So it was okay to take the team down then, but it's not now? I guess I should be glad you're at least appreciative of what they did for our family." He had always thought his father to be stern but fair. If Victor had been supporting the investigation before, though, he wouldn't know who or what to believe.

Victor sighed, moving to take a seat behind his desk again and motioning for Martin to sit as well. "It's not that easy, Martin. The team, they're good agents. You saw as much when we were there."

"So then why try to take them down?" he asked incredulously.

"It wasn't to take down the entire team, just Malone."

"The SAC?" Of all the members of the team, Jack was the one Sam spoke of least frequently. He had always assumed it was simply because Jack was their boss and, therefore, was somewhat separated from the rest of the team.

"Jack Malone is an extremely talented agent. But he's made some mistakes recently, and they haven't gone unnoticed." Victor said, giving a terse nod of his head.

"What kind of mistakes?"

"He came to DC a month or so ago to interrogate Congressman Whitehurst..." His father explained.

Martin released a small laugh; he had met Congressman Whitehurst on several occasions. "Whitehurst is pond scum, and you know it, Dad."

"We can't all have you impeccable morals, Martin," his father admonished.

"It's not morals," he argued. "Nobody should be above the law. If Whitehurst was a suspect, then he shouldn't get any special treatment."

"Even so, son, but there are more tactful ways to go about doing so," came Victors reply.

"That was only a few weeks ago, though. Why use Anwar Samir to bring him down?"

"DOJ thought Samir would be the easiest way to go about it."

He was shocked at the ease with which his father explained the situation to him.

"So everyone gets what they want, then? DOJ gets a fall guy, and you get to bring Jack Malone down?" Martin accused.

Victor sighed heavily. "I didn't say I was pleased about it -- not anymore. I appreciate everything their team did for our family. But Jack Malone did have it coming to him..." Victor paused for a moment, then continued slowly. "You can say what you want about my commitment to our family, but I have always been faithful."

Martin should not have been shocked. After all, it was something he saw from almost all of his colleagues. But he still felt slightly taken aback at his father's insinuations. He swallowed, resignedly. "Regardless, we still owe the entire team."

"What do you suggest that we do, then?" His father spoke with derisive authority, as though he were daring Martin to come up with a course of action that he hadn't already contemplated.

Martin rolled his eyes. "I would like to think that between the two of us, that we could come up with _something._"

xx

_New York City  
3:40 pm_

Jason Farrell paced behind the desk of Jack's office, waving one arm emphatically while the other rested casually on his hip. His tone was leading and accusatory, and Samantha was already at her wit's end after recounting the entire investigation for him. "So your statement is you believe Agent Malone's handling of the Samir case was both appropriate and professional?"

"Absolutely," she said curtly.

"And that the two of you have no difference of opinion with regard to tactical strategy?"

She shook her head "Not really. No."

Farrell leaned down to pick up the file lying on the desk. "Well, according to Agent Malone's own report, you approached him with your concerns about 'jumping too quickly to the conclusion that Samir was a terrorist.'"

Sam swallowed. "We may have talked about it."

"Would you mind characterizing your conversation for me, please?" He insisted.

As she recounted her conversation with Jack for Farrell, she recalled her own shock at the way Jack had treated her that day. He had spoken to her harshly, threatening to remove her from the case. It had been the first time she had ever allowed herself to get furiously angry with Jack Malone: although she had kept her demeanor calm and collected to his face, inside she had been boiling.

She was careful to keep her own personal feelings in check, however, as she spoke with Farrell. Jack had made it perfectly clear that they were over, in spite of the fact that he had separated from Maria, and she would not be made to be any man's fool.

Farrell raised his eyebrows suggestively as she finished her story. "Threatening to reassign you because you challenged one of his decisions?"

"In cases like this, emotions tend to run fairly high, Agent Farrell," she said defensively.

"I'm sure they do," he brushed off her reply, sitting down at the desk. He raised one hand as she moved to get up from her own seat. "Oh, oh, one other thing, Agent Spade. Have you and Agent Malone ever had a sexual relationship?"

She felt like she had been punched in the gut, and she had no idea how to respond while keeping both of their careers intact. "I beg your pardon," she said, tersely.

"Unless you're going to go Clinton on me, it's a fairly straightforward question," he practically sneers, and she fought the urge to slap him.

"You have no right to ask me that," she replied.

"Actually, I do. Administrative Operation Procedures of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, section 23--" he stated, looking very self-important. "'A supervising agent--' that would be Agent Malone -- 'is strictly forbidden from having a sexual relationship with an agent and his immediate reporting chain.'" He paused long enough to give her a hard stare. "That would be you."

"I am not going to respond to this." She rose from her seat indignantly, stepping toward the office door.

"We are not done," Farrell said forcefully, stopping her in her tracks. "Look, Samantha..."

"Agent Spade," she corrected.

"Agent Spade..." he approached her. She crossed her arms and tilted her head back defensively as he spoke. "I don't mean to be impolitic when I say I think we can all understand the pressures of this job, especially the difficulties a junior agent may face, say, if she were approached by a superior -- a man in a very unhappy marriage, desperate for the intimacy he wasn't getting at home. In this light, the Agent's actions would be understandable. However, refusing to answer, or lying about such a relationship, would not."

As Farrell spoke, she mentally considered how she was going to respond. Obviously, this was not going to go away by simply wishing it. "Your accusations are unfounded," she replied.

"Maybe," he said, sitting down on Jack's office sofa. "Or maybe not. You should know as well as anyone that security card access codes and cell phone records can be rather telling."

Farrell held out several pieces of paper for her: her cell phone records from the months she and Jack had been together.

"Jack and I are friends; we've worked on the same team for well over two years now," she defended. "If you look carefully at this, you'll see I talk to all of my teammates on a regular basis."

"To be quite honest, the Bureau does not care what you do with the rest of your teammates on your own free time, Agent Spade. I am asking you if you have ever had a sexual relationship with Agent Malone."

"And I--" Sam rose from the sofa and stepped towards the door, "am telling you that it is not true. We're done here, Agent Farrell."

Sam shut the door forcefully behind her, breathing heavily as she went searching for a place where she could find some peace and quiet. She stepped into the conference room, finding it devoid of occupants, and sat on the sofa against the back wall. The Bureau still had a long way to go in regards to the way it treated female employees, she thought. Jack was the one who had cheated on his wife, but she was the one who was made to feel like a whore.

She jumped forward slightly as she felt her cell phone vibrating in her jacket pocket -- she had switched it to silent while she had been in with Farrell. Her breath caught in her throat as the caller ID revealed a 202 number. _Martin_.

Shit.

She let the phone ring and go to voice mail, unable to come up with the courage to answer his call. She wondered if maybe he knew about the investigation. Or worse, if he had found out about her past with Jack through another source.

Her hands shaking, she opened her phone and dialed the number for her voice mail.

_"Hey, it's me."_ Martin's now familiar voice made her pulse quicken, although she was not sure from what. _"I know you tried to call me back earlier. I'm sure things are pretty crazy there with the Samir case and the Spaulding trial, and that's why you didn't leave a message. But if you get this later and you want to talk, just give me a call. And, uh, Sam--"_ Martin's voice broke slightly at the end of the message. _"I miss you."_

She swallowed hard as she lowered the phone from her ear and placed it back in her pocket.

She knew Martin was different than any other man she had ever dated, had known that from the beginning -- and it wasn't about his public status or his Senate position. It was about the kind of person he was. Even though the expectations of a long-distance relationship were different, she knew that she had been trying -- _really trying_.

She fought back tears with the realization that she had already let him down.

xxxxx


	20. Chapter 19

xxxxx

_**chapter nineteen**_

xxxxx

_would it be enough to go by  
if we could sail on the wind and the dark  
cut those chains in the middle of the night  
that had you pulled apart_  
-Vienna Teng, "Enough to Go By"

xx

_5:00 pm_

Sam sat rooted to her seat on the conference room sofa, staring blankly at the floor in front of her. She hadn't moved in over an hour and was so intent on her thoughts that she did not notice Jack enter the room and approach her until his feet came into view by the table in front of her.

She looked up at him grimly, figuring that he needed to know and hoping that he would somehow have a solution to her internal dilemma -- since he was, in fact, half of the problem in the first place.

"He asked me about us," she said softly. "He had all this stuff. Uh, security card access records of nights that we left together, phone logs..."

Jack sat beside her, sighing. "And what did you say?"

"I told him that it wasn't true."

His head turned to stare at her uncomfortably. "You have no idea what he knows or doesn't know. That's his ace up the sleeve -- that's how he wins."

She hated how he would lecture her sometimes, especially regarding their relationship. It wasn't as though he held the moral high card. "I was just trying to protect both of us," she said honestly.

"Yeah, but you didn't _have_ to lie. Even if he had hard evidence, there's nothing he could do about it."

"We broke at least half a dozen conduct codes!" She exclaimed incredulously. Jack knew as much as anyone that it was against the rules. "Excuse me for wanting to protect our jobs and our reputations!"

"Lying to an OPR investigator could get you fired," he said, leaning forward to touch her shoulder.

She shied away from his touch, replying with a biting tone. "And sleeping with an agent under your command could get _you_ fired." She relaxed slightly when he withdrew his touch. "I'm sorry I lied; I was just trying to save your ass."

She rose from the sofa and left him in her wake as she stepped quickly from the broken solace of the conference room and into the hallway. It was after 5:00 pm now, and since they didn't have any active cases other than Carrie Wilkins -- whose dental records were still being processed -- Sam decided it was safe to head home for the evening. It was a take out dinner and bad TV movie kind of evening.

As she gathered her belongings from her desk, she considered how Jack's loose interpretation of the rules had been one of the things that had attracted her to him most. But everything to within a certain degree, and Jack was beginning to take this too far.

Sam stepped out into the warm New York evening, fighting the chills that continued to run down her spine.

xx

_May 1, 2003  
11:45 am_

The remainder of the week had not gotten any better as far as Sam was concerned. Agent Farrell was ever-present and continued to harass the team at any chance he got, Judge Adderly threw out Spaulding's confession on the grounds that he had been denied the constitutional right to be questioned with an attorney present, and Jack and Naomi had been at odds all week because of some local PD official who claimed he had relayed Spaulding's request for counsel to 'Agent Russell.' This member of the local PD was shocked to see Agent Russell take the stand -- only to discover that this 'Agent Russell' was female, not male.

And the information from the courtroom proceedings certainly did nothing to hinder the OPR investigation.

Furthermore, Sam had only spoken to Martin once. Their conversation had been brief and rather stilted; they had both been distracted and not forthcoming as to what was going on between them.

She sighed, looking around the empty office. The rest of the team was already in court, while she had been on the phone with Carrie Wilkins' parents who were once again frantic after overhearing another radio report. She, too, was due in court to testify about the photographs that they had found in Spaulding's basement. Photographs which they believe not only linked Spaulding to Andy Deaver, but to several other boys who had gone missing in other states.

She turned with a jolt, hearing the muffled sound of raised voices coming from Jack's office. Her curiosity peaked as she thought she had been alone, she casually stood and walked past the office, stepping towards the ladies room. As she passed, she attempted to catch part of the conversation, but to no avail. The walls blocked out just enough of the sound that she could not decipher anything of use. She was, however, slightly panicked when she caught a glimpse of the scene inside the office through a segment of partially open blinds: Victor Fitzgerald appeared to be exchanging fairly heated words with Agent Farrell.

Though Sam had no idea what this meant, her natural instinct was to expect the worst.

Finding herself alone in the restroom, she studied her appearance in the mirror, touching up her makeup until she was satisfied that the dark circles under her eyes were completely covered. She was wearing one of her favorite suits, and her hair fell down around her shoulders, loosely framing her face. Satisfied that her appearance did not give off any tell-tale signs of her bad week, she exited the restroom and returned to the bullpen, which was once again silent.

However, as she approached her desk, she glanced around only to find that she was not alone. Instead, she found herself face to face with Victor Fitzgerald.

"Agent Spade," he acknowledged, with a nod of his head.

"Deputy Director Fitzgerald," she answered, her voice sounding cool and collected though her breathing was nervous and uneven. "Is something wrong? Can I help you?"

"No, no." He shook his head, but she knew the look on Victor's face. Though Martin looked much more like his mother, he too would crease his eyebrows in a similar fashion when something was weighing on his mind. "Agent Farrell had some important business to tend to back in Washington," Victor continued. "I don't think he will be a problem here anymore."

"Sir?" Sam questioned.

"It came to my attention that things were getting out of hand here, and I could not let office politics break up one of our most productive teams." He said, his voice all authority. He then turned his body to face her head on, lowering his voice considerably. "And it seems that I myself may have been too quick to judge."

Looking at him, she could not quite get a read on his body language -- although he seemed sincere. He smiled at her, and she knew that Martin was somehow behind all of this.

"How is the Spaulding trial going?" He asked, his tone professional once again.

"Not well," she answered honestly. "We're going to have to try to get a conviction from the photos we found in his basement, and then hope that there are enough jurors who take Patrick McCullough's testimony to heart." Her shoulders sagged, knowing that their chances of getting a solid conviction rested on the sometimes shaky justice system. "I actually need to get to court," she said, glancing at her watch before excusing herself.

"Good luck, Agent Spade," Victor said, as she turned to leave.

The elevator was opening on the main floor before her breathing finally evened out. As she stepped out into the early afternoon sunlight, she wondered what all of this meant -- for the team, and for herself and Martin.

xx

_1:00 pm_

"So that's it, then?" Naomi's green eyes bore into Sam's as the two women sat on a bench just outside the courthouse. Sam had just finished telling Naomi about what had happened at the office.

"I guess so," she said, running a free hand through her hair. "It just goes away."

"What happens now?" Naomi asked, leaning in closer in disbelief.

Sam thought for a few seconds before replying, "I don't know. We just move ahead with the Spaulding trial."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Naomi said with a groan. "Jack is great, but I sure as hell hope that the photos are enough to get a conviction because he pretty much screwed us over with the rest of the case."

"At least Andy Deaver is still alive, though," Sam reminded her, once again internally lamenting the flaws of the justice system.

"I know, I know. It just doesn't seem fair..." Naomi said with a sigh. "Anyway, I should probably get back to the office for the afternoon in case something comes in about Carrie Wilkins. I'll see you later on?"

"Yeah, of course," she replied absent-mindedly, trying to look inconspicuous as she saw Jack on the steps of the courthouse, watching them.

He was obviously waiting to talk with her alone. As soon as Naomi disappeared down the stairwell that led to the subway station, he began to walk over to the direction of the bench where she sat.

"How are you doing?" He asked, sitting down beside her.

"I'm fine," she shrugged her shoulders. "What's up?"

Jack breathed in, turning to look down at her. "I just got a call from Van Doren, who said that OPR has just packed up and moved back to Washington."

"I know," she nodded.

"You know?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, I know. Victor Fitzgerald came by the office earlier. He told me that Farrell had business in Washington and would not be coming back." She leaned back against the wooden bench, bringing a hand up to massage her temple.

"Victor Fitzgerald is behind this," he nodded tersely.

Sam shook her head and folded her hands in her lap. "Jack, I don't think this is primarily Victor Fitzgerald's doing." Jack gave her a confused look as she trailed off, and she bit her tongue, not wanting to relay her suspicions that Martin was the man behind OPR's sudden disappearance. "You were right, you know," she changed the subject, instead.

"About what?"

"It was dumb to lie to Farrell," she replied.

"Not as dumb as what's been going on in there," he motioned towards the courthouse. "I think I'll have let a killer walk free and lost my job when all of this is over."

"You know, when Farrell asked me about us, my first instinct was to tell him the truth. Because it was really hard for me, at first ... not telling anyone. Being around you all the time, and having to pretend like nothing ever happened," she admitted quietly.

"I know," he began softly, but she held up her hand to stop him from saying anything further.

"I don't think I was lying to save you, Jack," she continued. "I think, in that moment, I realized that if everybody knew, if they knew for sure, then I become _'that girl'_. And I don't want to be 'that girl' anymore, Jack. It's over, and I want to leave it that way."

She exhaled, signaling that she had finished, and she sat back again. Jack remained silent for nearly a minute, but just as he began to speak, the shrill ring of her cell phone interrupted them. Grateful for the distraction, Sam flipped the phone open and uttered her usual greeting without looking at the caller ID. "Spade -"

"Hey, it's me," Martin answered, sounding much calmer and less stressed than he had earlier in the week. "Is this a bad time?"

"I, uh, no," she replied.

"Are you sure?" He asked apologetically.

She briefly considered getting up from the bench, but then decided against it. She had just told Jack it was over; it did not matter what he thought anymore. "No, no. It's fine. I just have to be back in court in a couple of minutes," she replied confidently, checking her watch.

"Yeah, I figured," he said. "We just keep missing each other, and I thought I would try to catch you while we take a break."

"I'm glad you called," she smiled into the mouthpiece of her phone, feeling herself relax.

"You're not on call this weekend, are you?"

"Uh, no." She turned slightly, angling herself away from Jack's inquisitive stare. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I was just thinking about coming up for the day on Saturday, since the whole phone tag thing hasn't been working out for us."

"No, it hasn't," she said honestly. "That sounds good to me."

"I, uh, don't want to keep you," he said nervously. "I'll talk to you later?"

She agreed, and they exchanged rushed goodbyes. She flipped her phone shut again, rising silently from where she sat. She wondered what, exactly, had prompted Martin's sudden change of plans, when they had agreed the next time they would see each other was only two week's away as he would be in New York for Bridget's birthday.

Both hands fell to her sides, and Sam strode purposefully back towards the courthouse, leaving a very confused Jack in her wake.

xxxxx


	21. Chapter 20

xxxxx

_**chapter twenty**_

xxxxx

_and if the darkness is to keep us apart  
and if the daylight feels like it's a long way off  
and if your glass heart should crack  
and for a second you turn back  
oh no, be strong_  
-U2, "Walk On"

xx

_May 2, 2003  
Arlington, VA  
7:30 pm_

Martin stood on the front steps of his parent's home, shivering slightly in the evening air. He curled his index finger back once, hesitating, before impulsively pressing it against the cool metal of the doorbell.

The door flung open to reveal a large, heavy-set Irish woman who was both surprised and pleased to see him. "Martin!" She exclaimed, smiling at him.

"Hey, Maeve," he returned her smile easily as she ushered him inside. Maeve was in her early sixties, and she had been the Fitzgerald's housekeeper for almost as long as he could remember. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm just fine," she spoke rapidly, pulling him by the lapels of his suit jacket and running a meticulous eye over him. "Your parents didn't mention that you were dropping in this evening," she questioned, her eyes still scanning, continuing her inspection.

"Dad and I have a few things that we apparently 'need to discuss,'" he said, shrugging his shoulders as he mimicked his father's message. Although he spent the majority of his time in Washington, he rarely spent any prolonged periods of time with his parents, particularly not in his childhood home. It was not that he did not love his parents, or that family was not important to him; certainly the contrary. However, his parents always saw everything in a very specific way, and he much preferred to look at the world with an open mind. Though his parents had been the ones urging him to go into politics, he found that seeing things through his parents' eyes tended to complicate things far more often than simplifying them.

"You are too skinny, and too pale," Maeve dropped her hand from his lapels, completing her inspection. "When are you going to stop working for a few days and get a little sun?" She paused, leading him out of the foyer and down the hallway. "You look good, though."

Martin shook his head with a small laugh.

"Your mother is playing bridge at the Andersons," Maeve said, turning towards the kitchen. "Your father is in the study."

He stood for a few moments, amusement evident on his face as the kitchen door swung shut behind Maeve's retreating figure. Some things, he realized, would never change.

He turned to walk in the opposite direction from which Maeve had disappeared, approaching the closed door of his father's study. He knocked.

"Yes?" His father's stern, pointed voice was only slightly muffled behind the walls.

"It's just me, Dad," Martin said, and the door creaked as he opened it.

His father sat at the desk in the back corner of the room, head bent over several stacks of files. Victor looked up when he heard the door creak. "Martin," he nodded acknowledgement. "The OPR thing is taken care of."

"I'm doing great, Dad. How are you?" Martin rolled his eyes, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"I thought you would want to know, son." Victor spoke warningly.

"I already knew," Martin explained, shrugging his shoulders and wondering if his father would ever give him any credit. "I have friends at DOJ too, you know."

"Yes, well it's taken care of. You don't have to worry about it anymore."

"Good," Martin nodded. He still did not understand all of the details of the case, or the details of how his father had brought the investigation to a close, but he assumed it was not any more complicated than just pulling rank -- something Victor Fitzgerald was extremely good at. "Is this what you wanted to discuss, Dad?"

"No," Victor replied shortly. "A friend of mine in Senator Mahoney's office heard a rumor about a new bill on educa--"

"Stop, Dad!" Martin cut him off before he had a chance to say anything further. "Just, stop."

"Martin!" His father lectured. "Son, I am only trying to help you. Someone needs to look out for your best interests."

"Enough, Dad," Martin laughed bitterly. "This isn't really about my best interests, is it? Please, just stay out of my life." Martin paused long enough to take in the slightly stunned look on his father's face, and sighed. "I'll see you at Bridget's birthday party."

He did not even stop to wish Maeve "goodnight" as he rushed purposefully back out the front door.

xx

_May 3, 2003  
New York City  
2:00 pm_

Samantha lay quietly on the sofa, her mind racing. Martin had arrived at about 10:30 that morning, and they had exchanged the usual small talk over a late breakfast. Their conversation was not tense, exactly; however it lacked the usual ease and comfort that they usually had with one another. It had been one of the things that had initially attracted her to him, his ability to listen and make conversation, the way he seemed interested in everything about her.

But their conversation that morning had seemed very tired and unnatural. It scared her, mainly because she did not know how to handle this. When past relationships got to any point of stress or strain, she normally would either call things off or initiate sex to see if that helped relieve the tension. She knew instinctively that neither would work on Martin, and she was fairly certain that she would not want to solve their problems that way, either. She laughed inwardly, thinking about how her mother would joke that this was her first "real" relationship in spite of the fact that they lived several states away from each other and that he is a Senator, and a very popular one at that. He was only a few months into his term, but he was honest and fair, and the majority of the population of New York was very receptive to that. Of course, it probably also did not hurt that he was young, attractive, and as far as the rest of the public knew, single.

So when Martin had suggested that they watch a movie and relax for a little while, she had readily agreed.

They were now well towards the end of the movie, and she could not focus on what was happening on screen at all. The past week held so many emotional ups and downs, and all she wanted to do was try to make sense of what had happened as the week had come to a close.

_Sam hit the 'off' button on her monitor and ran her hands along her face as she waited for her screen to go blank._

_The previous afternoon, they had received confirmation on Carrie Wilkins' remains. After investigating a couple of leads that morning, Van Doren had given word that they were to declare the case cold and move on to a new case. While Jack and Danny had gone on to investigate a wayward cab driver who did not report back in after his shift ended, Sam and Vivian found themselves with the daunting task of explaining to Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins that they could not offer any answers as to their only daughter's death._

_It was 6:00: Vivian and Naomi had already gone home for the weekend, and Jack and Danny had retrieved their depressed cab driver, who had taken off in a moment of panic, unable to face the harsh realities of his financial situation. They were due back any minute now._

_She watched as her computer made the familiar whir and click, the screen going black before her. She heard the buzz of voices echoing through the mostly-empty bullpen, signaling that Danny and Jack had returned. While Danny disappeared into the locker room, likely to grab his jacket before the night-on-the-town he had been bragging about, she heard Jack move to the white board to discard their missing person's photograph._

_"Hey," Jack said, tossing the photo with the rest of the paperwork from the case to be dealt with at a later date. "How did it go with Carrie Wilkins' parents?"_

_"As good as could be expected," she shrugged. She had not spoken with Jack alone since leaving him sitting on the bench by the courthouse the previous afternoon and had no desire to have this conversation be the last one of her work week, but it looked as though she had no other choice. "I hear you guys convinced the cabbie to come home."_

_"Yeah," Jack laughed. "It's amazing what a few hours' drive will do for your state of mind."_

_Sam shuffled several manila folders on her desk, picking up the ones she needed to go over that weekend and placing them with her purse. "I guess so..."_

_"Sam?" Jack's eyes bore down at her as she turned to collect her things. "Is there anything that I should know about...?"_

_She drew in a short breath, knowing that this was about what he did or did not overhear yesterday while she was on the phone with Martin. "No," she said with a terse nod. She briefly considered telling Jack that she was seeing somebody new, but it was none of his business. Let him think what he might want, but she was not obligated to tell him anything. "Have a good weekend, Jack." She said with an uncomfortable smile, and with a wave of her hand, she turned and walked out of the bullpen._

"Sam?" Martin reached around from where he lay on the sofa to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. On the television screen, the end credits were rolling and the final song was playing. "Hey, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly, sitting up to sit next to him.

"Sam..." he pleaded, giving her a small smile of encouragement. "Something happened this week, and I came up here to make sure you were alright." He laughed teasingly, running his hand along her cheek before adding, "I don't plan on leaving until you tell me what's going on, so you can make this as easy or as difficult as you want."

Sam bit her lip, casting her eyes downward as she found herself unable to stop the words from flowing. "We had this twelve year old girl who disappeared on her way home from school five months ago. New Jersey authorities found her body in Rutherford last weekend; her body was so decomposed that it took almost all week to get a positive ID. We had to close the casefile, none of our leads panned out and there was nothing more we could do..."

As her voice trailed off, she felt Martin inch closer to her hesitantly. "Hey," he said in a hushed whisper, placing a kiss on her temple. "I'm sorry."

Sam let out an audible sigh and shrugged her shoulders. "It's okay. I mean, it happens. But the look on her parents' faces..." Sam paused, her heart breaking for the young girls' parents once again. "Thank you, by the way, for what you did with OPR."

Martin smiled at her, shaking his head slightly. "It wasn't really me. My dad took care of it."

"I figured he was involved when he was in the office the other day, but this does not seem like something your father would go out of his way to do without some kind of catalyst."

"Dad was in New York this week?" Martin looked genuinely surprised, as though he did not actually know as much of the situation as she had assumed. "He never told me that..."

"Martin?" She questioned, turning her upper body so that she was facing him. "What _did_ your father tell you?"

"Honestly, not much. Dad doesn't really trust me with his work stuff unless it pertains directly to me," Martin rolled his eyes. "Just that Jack was the target. He said Jack is a talented agent, but that he had made some mistakes and that he had it coming... I told him that it shouldn't matter, especially after what your team did for our family." Martin paused for nearly a minute, appearing very pensive even as he finally began to speak once again. "I know you hardly ever mention Jack, but from what I saw of him -- I mean, he just didn't seem like the kind of man who would be unfaithful. Especially since he has two daughters at home."

"It's not like that," she started, before she had fully processed what he had said or the words that were leaving her mouth.

Martin, however, did not say anything. Instead he sat beside her, looking slightly taken aback as he processed the implications of what she had just revealed.

Finally unable to take the pregnant silence any longer, Sam spoke in a tense, defensive voice. "If you have something to ask me Martin, just ask."

Martin caught her eyes nervously as he gave a tentative reply. "Am I... Am I the only one who didn't know?"

"Vivian knows," she said, surprised at how even and confident her voice sounded. "I'm not sure about Danny. Naomi doesn't -- at least, I don't think so. It was over a year ago, before she even joined the team."

Martin sat still on the sofa beside her, considering her vague explanations. She found his silence to be far more unbearable than any harsh words, and leaned forward as though to prompt him to say something, _anything_.

"I should probably go," he said suddenly, rising from his seat. "I want to see Caroline and the girls while I'm in town."

She sat rooted to the spot as he let himself out, completely out of touch with the reality of him walking away until she heard the door slam shut in his wake. She ran her hands through her hair and tried to shake it off, but even as she sat with her afternoon suddenly completely free, she could not make sense of what had just happened.

xxxxx


	22. Chapter 21

xxxxx

_**chapter twenty-one**_

xxxxx

_you think your days are ordinary  
and no one ever thinks about you  
but we're all the same  
and she can hardly breathe without you_  
-Keane, "She Has No Time"

xx

_May 15, 2003  
1:10 pm_

Samantha sighed and hung up her phone, looking up at the expectant eyes of Sydney Harrison's assistant, Libby Coulter.

"What's up?" Naomi's voice carried from the opposite corner of the room, where she sat looking over a sample of Sydney's case files trying to get a better idea of how she worked.

"That was Jack," she put her phone back in her jacket pocket. "We have a drop location: the Table of Contents bookstore, over on Waverly. Jack wants us to meet him at the Revival Movie Theater across the street, we're going to set up there." Naomi nodded her agreement and both agents turned to Libby. "Libby, they've asked you to be the one to do the drop. Now, we'll go over the details with Agent Malone, but we need to know if this is something you think you can do. This is a routine thing, we do it all of the time. But just in case, if you think you can do this, we'll have several agents to back you up just in case anything happens."

Libby breathed deeply, her voice shaky and nervous, but full of determination. "I want to do this to help Sydney," she said.

"Okay, good," Naomi encouraged. "Let's go."

The three women made their way to the elevator and outside into the stuffy mid-May heat. Sam motioned towards where she had managed to find a parking space on the side of the street, knowing that Naomi usually took the subway, and opened the door for Libby to climb into the back seat. The two agents lingered next to the passenger's seat, Naomi's hand hesitating against the door handle.

"Are you okay?" Sam raised her voice, probing her friend.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Naomi said, shaking her head slightly. "I'm trying not to read too much into it, but something about this is giving me a really bad feeling..."

"It'll be fine, Naomi," Sam reassured her friend, dodging traffic as she walked around to the driver's side of the four door sedan. She sat down and his her eyes behind her sunglasses, trying to ignore the chill that ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the way the stream of cool air from the vent was hitting her skin.

xx

_1:30 pm_

"Make a wish and blow out the candles, sweetie!"

Aunt Bonnie held Bridget's hair out of her face as the little girl bent over her cake to blow out the candles. Well, spit on the candles would have been a more accurate statement. Several of Bridget's friends from preschool and their parents were also in attendance, as well as Martin, Victor and Lydia, Scott and Rebecca, the Tolands, Tim's older brother Neal, and Tim's mother. Tim's father had passed away just eighteen months ago from congestive heart failure.

All in all, the party had been a huge success, but as the cake was being passed out, Martin found himself leaning against the counter as a spectator, instead of in the middle of the action.

"Hey, Marty," his sister Rebecca approached him, offering a plate.

Martin took one look at the pile of pink confection sugar icing and declined. "No thanks, Beck."

"Okay," Becca crushed the plastic fork into the cake for emphasis. "Now I know something's up. Who are you and what have you done to my baby brother? I have known you for almost 32 years, and I don't think you refused food even when you were sick and throwing up!"

"I'm fine, Becca," he said, crossing his arms insistently across his chest.

"Well, sure, you _look_ fine Marty. But I know you and I know something's up," Rebecca said defiantly, her eyes daring him to deny her. "This doesn't have to do with the fight you had with Dad that the two of you are just not talking about? Or your surprise visit a couple of weeks ago, does it?"

"What do you mean?" Martin cast his eyes downward and shuffled his feet, glad that everyone else's attention was directed towards the chatter of the small children at the kitchen table.

"Don't play stupid with me," Rebecca warned. "Caro told me you turned up unexpectedly two weeks ago; she said you seemed kind of upset."

"You have no idea," he lowered his voice, frustrated.

In the two weeks since he had come up to see Sam, he had gone over their conversation in his head a hundred times an hour. How could he have been so stupid that he didn't see it? There had been a different quality to the way that Jack had interacted with Sam, as opposed to Naomi and Vivian. And Sam had rarely ever mentioned his name; in fact, sometimes it seemed like she may have gone out of her way to avoid Jack's name coming up in conversation.

Though nothing that she had actually said had given him any indication that she still held feelings for Jack, he could not help but feel uncertain and insecure. Jack was her boss and had known her for far longer than he had; Martin felt almost betrayed. While rational thought told him that they were over, that she had explicitly said she and Jack had ended things well over a year ago, he worried that between the outside factors that already made their relationship intensely complicated, that maybe their young romance would not be able to survive this.

And he knew that he himself had not helped things by getting up and leaving the way that he did, but at the time, he was too shell-shocked to do anything else. When his father had hinted at Jack having an affair with someone else from the Bureau, he had never pictured it being someone from the team -- and never Samantha.

They had exchanged a few messages, although their main contact had been via home voice mail at a time when each had been certain the other would be out, and they had agreed to meet that evening for dinner. When they had first planned this a week ago, Martin had assumed he would have some brilliant revelation as to what he wanted to do, but the days had passed and still nothing.

Martin was torn, because the attraction he felt for Sam ran much deeper than just physical and he knew that, but at the same time, he did not want to get hurt by getting in too deep for someone who still held out hope for someone else.

Becca reached out and squeezed his shoulder, smiling reassuringly. "So be honest with me, Martin. Are you alright? Is everything okay with Sam?"

Martin felt his posture sag. "I don't know, but I think I'm going to find out tonight."

xx

_1:50 pm_

Samantha pulled on her light blue jacket and checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She and Naomi were both getting ready in the ladies room at the Revival Movie Theater, where the Bureau had set up a small team to prepare for the ransom drop.

It was becoming obvious that something about this case was deeply affecting Naomi, and she briefly considered confronting her friend about it. They could not risk anything going wrong in there if they wanted to find Sydney Harrison alive.

"Hey Sam?" The door to one of the stalls opened and Naomi stepped out, dressed in jeans and a dark green blouse. They would both be going in to cover for Libby, but they did not want to dress in a similar fashion and possible draw attention to themselves. Naomi seemed to have put aside whatever was bothering her, instead looking more concerned as she looked at Sam's reflection in the mirror.

"Yeah?"

"I know this isn't the best time, but I've been meaning to ask you. Is everything alright?" Naomi's eyes caught hers imploringly.

"I'm fine," she answered.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Naomi dismissed her quickly. "Because you know if you need someone to talk to, I'm here..."

Sam stood silently for a moment, thoughtful. "I know, Naomi. Thank you." She smiled at her friend, extremely grateful to have someone that she could trust if she decided she wanted to talk to somebody about what was going on between herself and Martin. Though she knew she wouldn't; it was far too personal and she did not want to explain to Naomi about her past with Jack. If nothing else, it would not be fair to put Naomi in a position where she could be vulnerable if there was another investigation. "We better get out there," she reminded. "Jack is going to need us to get in place."

"Right, of course."

Sam looked herself over in the mirror once more, making sure that her gun was secure and not visible to any onlookers, before pushing the door open and walking back around to the van where Jack was going over the final details with Libby Coulter. She took Naomi's bag from her so that Naomi could go into the bookstore first and moved to the back of the van, pulling the doors open and placing both her bag and Naomi's inside safely.

When she walked around to the side of the white vehicle, she found Jack giving Libby the explicit warning not to react to her and Naomi's presence inside the store.

They had, of course, gone over as much in the car on the way to the movie theater.

Jack gave her the go head, and she made her way across the street and into the small bookstore.

Knowing that Libby would not be far behind her, she quickly found her way to a small table that held a book display and tried to take in her surroundings, searching for a possible suspect.

She saw a woman reading in a chair not too far away from a little boy, whom she assumed was the woman's son, and ruled her out immediately. Two men were leaning against another set of bookshelves, one whom she couldn't get a good look at because he was too far away, and the other a slightly older man with a bit of a beard who made her a little bit nervous. She saw Naomi from a distance, noticing that her friend's eyes were also focused on the two different men leaning on the bookshelf.

She heard the door swing open and the bell ring, and in her peripheral vision, saw Libby walk in with the bag.

"Hey, can I help you with something?" The cashier greeted Libby.

"Uh, where's your travel section?" As Libby spoke, Sam cast her eyes quickly around the store to see if anyone had moved around. No luck.

The cashier pointed along the back wall. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"No, thanks," Libby replied.

Sam watched out of the corner of her eye as Libby set the bag down by the travel section and walked towards the front doors. Her eyes then turned to the slightly older man right in front of her. She estimated him in his late 40's or early 50's, and the way he held himself continued to make Sam nervous. He was moving, his body now angled a little closer to the travel section. Sam held her breath.

When Libby was about ten feet away, Sam heard the cashier speak up.

"Uh, miss-- You forgot your bag."

_Shit._

"Oh, um, I'm ... just going to feed my meter. It, it's kind of heavy, so I just ... so ..." Libby was stuttering, flustered, obviously losing her focus and concentration. Sam saw a look of panic on her face as Libby seemed to recognize the man who had come out of the shadows from behind the windows during the commotion.

Sam turned herself around just in time to see the man grab the bag and head towards the door. The older man whom she had previously been eyeing suspiciously stepped into his way.

Before Sam could react to what was happening, the two men were shouting at each other.

"Hey, pal, that's not your bag! Hey, hey, hey! It's not ...!"

"Hey! Get the hell off!" The man with the bag yelled, pulling a gun and pointing it at the man who had threatened him.

Sam's heart was pounding in her chest at a million miles a minute, and as she quickly scanned the scene for anything that she could think of, she saw Libby hiding behind the far bookshelf, mouthing something into her sleeve.

And though Libby was quiet, she was just loud enough that Sam could here her frantic, hurried words muttered to Jack on the other end.

_"It's Barry Mashburn, it's Barry Mashburn..."_

xxxxx


	23. Chapter 22

xxxxx

_**chapter twenty-two**_

xxxxx

_i got nothing left to defend  
i cannot pretend  
that everything makes sense  
but does it really matter now  
if i do not know how  
to figure this thing out_  
-Lifehouse, "Unknown"

xx

_3:15 pm_

Sam shut the bathroom door behind her and immediately began pacing and running her hands along her face. "Okay. Think, think, think, think, damn it," she muttered to herself, sitting down on the toilet, her body tense and weary with stress. "Think, think, think, think."

At least she had managed to pull Barry Mashburn away from the rest of the group so that maybe Naomi could find a way to calm them down -- or at least warn the middle-aged man to stop agitating Mashburn any more than he already had.

Mashburn was paranoid, volatile, and extremely quick-tempered, and he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. That was a dangerous combination, and the situation could deteriorate at any given moment.

She had no idea where Naomi had hidden her badge and gun, but she assumed somewhere toward the back of the store, where she had been when the whole incident broke loose. That meant that if something went down, she might be the only person who could take Mashburn out.

She signed, hearing the phone's incessant ringing in her ears and trying not to get on edge. "Focus, Sam," she muttered to herself. "Just focus."

Loud pounding echoed in the small stall. "Come on, let's go! What are you doing in there?"

Sam fiddled with the faucets, rinsing and drying off her hands. "Just a sec! Coming." She flushed the toilet, opening the door slowly to see Mashburn watching her intently. "Sorry. I -- I was just..."

"No, that's all right. I mean ... You don't have to apologize for everything. Stop saying sorry. It's making me nervous." Barry gave her an awkward smile, appearing uncertain and almost human. A second later, the moment had passed and Barry motioned with his arms for her to get going again.

But Sam knew she had seen something in his eyes. When she returned to sit with the others, she returned with the knowledge that Barry Mashburn, as paranoid and volatile as he seemed, was also human.

She wiped sweat away from her forehead and listened to the incessant ringing of the desk phone. Mashburn was going to need to pick it up soon, or there was going to be trouble.

"It's really hot in here," Naomi rolled up her sleeves and pulled her hair up in a ponytail. She turned to look at the cashier. "It'd be great if we could have some water."

"Yeah, yeah," Mashburn agreed. "And where's the, uh, the thermostat?"

The cashier shook his head. "The store is on the building's control, we don't have a thermostat in here. Don't have any water, either."

Sam nodded in relief as the incessant ringing finally stopped, recognizing that Naomi just wanted to establish the 'need' for something as a bargaining chip.

"Mom, it's really hot in here," the young boy complained, looking extremely uncomfortable and anxious.

"Oh, I know, sweetheart." His mother rubbed his back in an attempt to sooth him.

"What's your name?" Sam turned to face them, knowing that this was her chance to introduce the personal element into the situation.

"This is Kyle. I'm Cheryl."

Sam nodded and smiled. "I'm Samantha."

"I'm Naomi."

"I'm Libby."

"Ted."

"Fran."

"Richard."

One by one, she breathed easer as each person introduced themselves.

And just as she started to catch her breath, the phone once again began ringing.

xx

"Thanks Uncle Marty!"

Bridget threw aside the wrapping paper and ran to the sofa to hug him. Given her size, all she could do was wrap her arms around his legs. He laughed in spite of himself, and reached down to lift her onto his lap. He kissed the top of her head. "You're welcome, sweetie."

Bridget hugged him again and crawled out of his lap, returning to the floor where Kelsey was helping her open her presents. Martin realized once again how much the two girls reminded him of his own sisters as Kelsey whispered in Bridget's ear and pointed at the next present to be unwrapped.

The party itself was over, and now only family remained. The two girls sat in front of the large wooden dollhouse that had been a gift from his parents, and the rest of the family had each given her a set of furniture for one of the rooms.

Kelsey handed her the next gift-wrapped package, and Bridget excitedly tore away at the wrapping paper. As she squealed and ran to thank her Uncle Neal, he thought back to when he had originally told Sam he was coming into town for Bridget's birthday...

_Martin twisted the shower faucet, turning the steady stream of water off. He reached for his towel and dried himself off, eventually wrapping the towel securely around his waist as he stepped out of the shower and onto the tile floor of his bathroom._

_  
"Martin?" Sam's voice carried in from the bedroom, sounding still fuzzy and heavy with sleep._

_He leaned against the wooden frame that separated the bathroom and his bedroom, smiling at the sight of her. "Hey... Morning," he laughed quietly. She had propped herself up on one elbow, her body lying on her side and facing him. The dark bedspread draped around her chest in contrast with her pale skin. With her free hand, she wiped at her eyes and yawned, the spread falling slightly to reveal some of what she was -- or wasn't -- wearing underneath._

_"Mmm, morning." She yawned again. "You're up early. It's Sunday!"_

_He shook his head and laughed again, louder this time. "It's 9:30, Sam."_

_"It's Sunday!" She protested. She finally sat up in bed and threw her legs over the side. She bent over, picking his dress shirt up off the floor and slipping her arms through the sleeves. She stood, cracking her lips in a half smile. "There, I'm up. Happy?"_

_"Very." He smiled, pulling on the hem of his shirt to bring her closer to him. He kissed her._

_She scrunched up her nose in mock disgust. "You taste like Listerine."_

_He rolled his eyes. "At least I don't have morning breath!"_

_"Not my fault. You were the one who wanted me to wake up with all that noise you were making in the bathroom!" She paused to think for a few minutes. "When is your flight back?"_

_"I don't have to leave for a few hours yet. I'll leave after lunch." She nodded, resigned, and he looked at her regretfully. "I know, I hate it as much as you do, but you live here and I live there... Geography isn't exactly on our side here."_

_"It would be different if we could at least work out a phone schedule that would stay the same any given week," she joked, almost half-heartedly to avoid the conversation getting too serious._

_"You know I said you could call me any time when I'm at the office late at night... I promise that I'd rather be talking to you than looking over policy changes and working on budget revisions for the eight millionth time." He sat down on the bed and reached out for her hand, pulling her down beside him. "I know this isn't easy, I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be sorry."_

_"I'm going to be back in just a couple of weeks; Bridget's birthday is on the 15th. I figured I'd just take the whole weekend... What do you think?"_

_She smiled, this time more genuine. "I was thinking that eventually I'd make the trip down to DC and save you from using up all of your frequent flyer miles, but I think that sounds good."_

_"Hey, if you get really lonely, you could just give me a call whenever you're on your next stakeout..." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, not wanting to ruin their last morning together for a few weeks. If they spent too much time on serious conversation, Sam was going to start closing herself off. He knew she didn't like coming off as vulnerable and that it was going to take some more time before he could get her to truly open up to him. Slowly, he thought he was seeing signs that he was getting there, but he did not want to push his luck. Sam made some of his fellow Senators seem like open books._

_"Oh, I don't think our phone calls would be really appropriate..." she said jokingly, rising from the bed and tugging the shirt tighter around her thin frame. She shivered and turned around. "I'm going to take a shower, care to join me?"_

_"I already showered..." he heard himself protesting before he was aware of what he was saying._

_"Yeah," Sam smirked, reaching out her hand. "I know..."_

"Victor!" Martin's mother's annoyed voice broke him from his reverie. "Right now?"

"I'm sorry, Lydia. It's work. I really have to take this!"

His mother glared at his father once again as Victor rose from his seat to take the phone call out in the hallway.

Beside him, Becca sighed and rolled her eyes. "Typical Mom and Dad," she whispered.

He nodded and reached out to squeeze her hand. His father was generally a much more attentive grandparent then he had been parent, but Victor still had his moments.

"So, anyway," Rebecca continued, tugging on his hand to get his attention. "I think the girls want to go by Morningside when they take Tim's mom back around dinnertime," she said, referring to the assisted living facility where Katherine Byrne was a resident. "And Caro said she needed to run by the hospital to pick up a few of her residents' charts to review this weekend. I thought maybe we could swing by with her and have a few minutes to talk uninterrupted."

Rebecca was, as always, less than subtle with her intentions. He protested. "I told you, I'm fine. And besides, I have dinner plans tonight."

"I know that," she whispered, gripping his hand more forcefully as if to drive home her point. "And they aren't until 8:00. You have time."

"I'll think about it," he said, removing his hand from hers and motioning to turn their attentions back to where Bridget was opening one of the final packages. He sighed, knowing that where Rebecca was concerned, he was fighting a losing battle.

xx

_6:15 pm_

Sam glanced around the store as she held the phone to her ear, once again trying to take everything in. Barry's eyes were on her expectantly as she spoke to Jack, trying to sound like a civilian as she gave him clues as to the identities of her fellow hostages.

It had come as a huge surprise to her to learn that Barry's wife had held Libby's job prior to the World Trade Center attacks, learning how Barry likely resented Sydney Harrison merely because she had survived and his wife had not.

But what had come as the biggest surprise was the way that Naomi reacted to the news; no one else in the store had reacted as intensely as Naomi had, her eyes growing wide with shock and then immediately filling with tears. She knew Naomi well and suspected that it was not an act. Her friend seemed genuinely affected by what little they knew of Barry's story. Furthermore, she had been surprised when they were trading stories about where they were on the morning of the attacks and Naomi had said nothing.

Sam shook her train of thought, focusing back on her conversation with Jack and trying to let him know that the person he was missing was Ted, the store employee. Cheryl and Kyle must have been in too much shock to remember everyone's name when Barry had let them go.

It was then that she noticed Richard trying to make his way towards where her bag was hidden. Her heart raced, silently willing Naomi to keep things under control while Barry was intent on the phone conversation between Jack and herself. She knew Richard was trouble by the way he kept glaring at her, probably because he knew she was armed and that she had done nothing.

Panic rose in her voice, and on the other end of the line, she heard Jack sounding concerned. But her attention was no longer focused on the conversation, and rather on the noise that Richard had made as he slapped Naomi's hand away and lunged to the corner of the bookshelf where her own gun lay hidden.

It happened so quickly that she was barely aware of what was happening.

Before she knew it, Barry and Richard were throwing punches at each other and fighting for the gun. She dropped the phone instantly and Naomi stood up, both trying to hold the men back and prevent anyone from getting hurt.

They needed to get a hold of the guns -- and quickly. Jack knew something was going down, and if they weren't careful, SWAT would be on their way in a matter of minutes.

It was too late, though, as she heard one gun shot and then another.

Richard and Barry both backed away from each other. She heard Fran scream and Naomi gasp, and that was when she finally felt the searing pain in her thigh.

xxxxx


	24. Chapter 23

xxxxx

_**chapter twenty-three**_

xxxxx

_please don't make me cry  
please don't make me cry  
i'm just like you -- i know you know  
i'm just like you, so leave me alone_

_oh, you humor me today_  
-Eisley, "Telescope Eyes"

xx

At Quantico, they tell you what to do in a hostage situation if you somehow get wounded. She even found herself in several simulated hostage situations during training.

All that left her as she fell to the ground, grunting in pain. She vaguely registered Naomi leaning over her and several of the others repeating "Oh my God" like a broken record.

Her breath came rapid and shallow. It was all she could do to focus on not hyperventilating; she could not afford to pass out. Not now.

"We need to wrap her leg!" Naomi shouted at Ted. "Get something to tie it off, a belt or something."

"Here, use this," Barry came closer to take a look, handing Naomi something in the process. But hearing Jack's voice calling through the phone, which was still hanging off the hook on the counter, he snapped back into panic mode and violently heaved the phone back into the receiver.

"Tighter," she grunted as Naomi worked to tie her leg off. "Tighter!"

"That better?" Naomi pulled the belt tighter as she whispered concern etched across her face.

"Yeah," she nodded, panting. "Better."

"Where did you get the gun?" Barry now had a hold of both his gun and her own, and he was pointing one of them at Richard as his voice rose, panicked. "Where did you get it?"

Richard began to mumble some generic response about finding it in the corner, apparently deciding that now was a good time not to give away her cover. What a complete idiot.

"Who's the cop?! Come on, who's the cop?!"

There was no getting around this, she realized. She grunted, panting, and gritted her teeth down as she took a breath. "I am! I'm FBI!"

Barry stared in disbelief, which only seemed to heighten when Naomi rose from where she sat and revealed herself as well.

"We're partners," she explained with an even voice, trying to infuse some calm through the chaos. Sam had wanted to give Naomi the option to keep herself hidden, but she thought it was the right call, given the situation they were in at the moment and how angry Barry was.

"Damn it!" Barry yelled to no one in particular, running his free hand along his face.

"I need --" Sam panted, trying to focus on anything else beside the sharp tearing pain in her left thigh. "I need you to elevate my leg."

"Is this okay?" Naomi asked, her eyes wide with fear as she propped Sam's leg up on the nearest chair she could find. "How bad is it?"

"It's a through and through," Sam grunted through the pain, but felt slightly better now that her leg was tied off and elevated.

"Damn it!" Barry repeated as the phone once again began ringing off the hook.

"My badge is over there if you don't believe me," Sam defended.

Barry walked behind her, and she heard him bend over to look at her bag. A soft thud sounded as he threw something to the floor, cursing again.

"Hey, look," Naomi turned to Barry and motioned back towards the phone. "If you don't pick that up in the next few seconds, they're going to send SWAT in here. And no one wants that to happen, right?"

Everyone was silent for a few moments, holding their breath. Then Barry walked to the counter to pick up the phone.

xx

"So what do you think was so important that Dad had to just up and leave the birthday party?" Rebecca flipped down the visor on the passenger's side of the car, adjusting her lipstick as she studied herself in the mirror.

"You know Dad," Caroline said in her best older-sister-knows-best voice. "It probably wasn't anything, but he just wanted to put in an appearance."

Caroline hit her turn signal and pulled off into the physician's parking garage at St. Michael's General Hospital.

"Don't think we're letting you off the hook," Rebecca hopped out of the car and slammed the door shut behind her. "We're just going to let Caro pick up her charts, first."

Martin waived his hand at her and flicked his wrist. "Yeah, yeah."

Secret Service pulled up behind them, the three agents all stepping out of the car to follow them.

"Do they really have to follow you everywhere, Martin?" Caroline groaned, faking exasperation.

Martin grinned sheepishly at his older sisters. "Talk to Mom about it, she's the one who absolutely insisted I have them."

Caroline swiped her ID card in the slot by the door, and it clicked as it unlocked. She turned around and held the door, smiling at him. "Nah, you should just get your FBI girlfriend to protect you."

Rebecca and Caroline both laughed, and it echoed down the empty stairwell. Martin just shook his head and blushed. His footsteps echoed behind theirs as they bounded the two floors down the stairs to the metal door that led to the ER.

Immediately upon entering the busy emergency room, a blonde woman in pink scrubs approached Caroline. Martin recognized her as Joanne, the charge nurse and one of Caro's closest friends. Back when he worked for the Dalton Corporation and before he had started preparing for the Senate race, he had met Caroline here for lunch on a regular basis and had the chance to get to know several of her colleagues.

"Hey, Caroline!" Joanne came up to hug her. "Hey Martin, Rebecca."

"Hey, Joanne," Martin smiled at his sister's friend. "How are you doing?"

"I'm great, thanks," she replied, motioning for the group to follow her into the doctor's lounge. "How was Bridget's party?"

"It was great." Caroline beamed.

Rebecca playfully batted her hand in the air as the lounge door opened. "Oh, you know she just loves being the center of attention."

"Hey, Jo, listen to this! -- Oh, hey Dr. Fitzgerald." Another nurse looked up at the group as they entered, turning up the volume on the radio. "Isn't your Dad a Fibbie?" The nurse continued, nodding at Caroline.

"Yeah, he is. Why?" Caroline punched the combination for her locker, opening it and grabbing several charts from the top.

"Listen to this," the nurse repeated, adjusting the tuning knob on the radio to minimize the static.

_"... According to the FBI, the shooting is now believed to have been an accident, and they are working closely with the gunman to arrange for the victim to be transported to a hospital. More on the situation coming as soon as we hear anything ..."_

"Hey, I wonder if the agents who were involved in the girls' case know anything about that," Joanne sat down at the table, tilting her head pensively. "They were nice, very thorough. Not too intimidating for Fibbies."

Martin looked down at his feet, not daring to look Becca in the face. He checked his watch and fought the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It had to be nerves, as it was almost 7:00 and he was going to check in with Sam about dinner plans at 8:00. Because she was on call that weekend, she said she assumed she would be done with work by then but that he ought to call to check, on the off chance that a big case came in. He was quickly learning that two people with schedules as full and busy as theirs were, that scheduling was definitely a problem.

He still felt entirely unsure about how things were going to go tonight, and he choked back his own nerves as he listened to Caroline, Joanne, and Rebecca chat easily amongst themselves.

xx

"Okay, you're going to go out," Barry turned to Richard.

Sam sucked in a breath as Naomi continued to put pressure on her injured thigh.

"I really think you should reconsider," Naomi countered with desperation in her voice, her hands drenched with the blood soaking through the jacket that covered Sam's wound.

"This isn't a discussion," Barry insisted. "I want 'Dick' out of here."

"No!" Naomi said, louder and more forcefully.

"Why should I listen to you?"

Sam shivered, feeling cool all over as she felt her body slowly lapsing into shock. Weak and barely able to move, she drew in a shallow, ragged breath and tried to keep her focus on the argument between Barry and Naomi. Tried to keep her focus on anything other than the pain, anything that would keep her conscious for as long as possible.

"Because she's lost a lot of blood!" Naomi breathed, sweat pouring down her face. "She's dying, Barry! She's dying. And no one deserves to die like this!"

"Oh yeah!? Well, no one deserves to die like my wife did, and nobody else seemed to care about that? So maybe now there will be some justice!"

"Where's the justice, Barry?" Naomi urged. "Thousands of people died that day, and the whole city -- the whole country -- everyone cares. You have to keep going, Barry, it's what your wife would have wanted you to do, isn't it?"

Barry remained silent. Through her pain, Sam could recognize that Naomi was beginning to get through to him.

"Come on, Barry. Let Sam go, let her get the medical attention she needs."

"No!" Barry cried, his voice breaking. "It's not fair! It's just not fair!"

"What is it, Barry?" Naomi soothed. "What's not fair?"

"Nicole shouldn't have been in there."

"No," Naomi agreed. With her free hand, she reached out to touch Barry on the shoulder and whispered. "My husband shouldn't have been there, either."

"He -- I -- what?" Barry sat down on the floor, and Sam heard his heavy breathing somewhere near her head. He was barely visible in her peripheral vision.

Naomi nodded and her voice broke slightly as she continued to explain. "My husband worked for a banking company that had their offices in the top floors of the South Tower. I was away at Quantico, I only had a few weeks left of my training... When everything went down that morning, I just knew." Naomi's chest heaved as she paused to take a breath. "If you don't believe me, go find my bag by the back bookshelves. The bank had a huge corporate dinner in Windows on the World, there's a picture of Thomas and I there."

Sam felt Barry rise wordlessly to go inspect for Naomi's bag and tried to wrap her mind around what Naomi had told them. She knew Naomi well enough to realize that she wasn't lying.

She felt Naomi's hands lift off of her thigh, Naomi whispering silently for Libby to come forward to put pressure on the wound. In the small window of opportunity, Naomi bolted silently to grab both guns from where Barry had left them on the countertop.

"What are you doing?" Barry demanded the second he returned and saw Naomi with both guns trained on him.

"Hey, hey," Naomi warned, her voice calm and even. "It's alright, Barry. I just need to get us all out of here."

"I have nothing else left to lose." Barry dropped his posture, appearing defeated but not yet willing to admit it.

"Then don't lose," Naomi said, walking forward to where he stood. "Let her go, let Sydney go, let all of us go. It's what Nicole would have wanted."

Barry slumped down against the bookshelf, his tears evident in his voice. "I can't let go."

"Yes," Naomi bent down to his level, reaching out to him. "You can. You have to.

"But how can you do that? Just forget everything that happened... ?"

"You don't. That's the thing: you don't forget, you just figure out how to keep going," Naomi said frankly, pausing to let her words sink in. "I think it's time for us to get Sam outside."

The next thing Sam knew, she heard Naomi pick up the phone to let Jack know that there was a change of plans and that they would all be exiting together.

The doors swished open once, then again, and she heard everyone else moving around her. Suddenly, several male agents had surrounded her, lifting her slowly and carrying her outside to a bench on the street corner.

Finally able to let her guard down, she was only vaguely aware of talking to Jack as he bent over to confirm that her condition was not serious. Agents buzzed around her, and she heard the sound of sirens approaching from the distance.

Paramedics lifted her onto a stretcher and began to work around her. She felt instantly better when they slipped an oxygen mask around her face, finally able to breathe a little bit deeper. She inhaled, feeling lightheaded.

"Hey," Naomi approached the stretcher, giving her a tentative smile. "You're gonna be okay."

At that, the water gates broke and she began to cry. "I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, hey..." Naomi ran her hand up and down against the side of Sam's face. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You were great in there."

Sam exhaled, trying once again to gather her composure. "What you did was pretty risky, you know."

At that, Naomi smiled fully for the first time all day. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"How are we doing?" Jack walked up behind Naomi.

"She's going to be fine," Naomi turned around to reply. "I'm riding with her. I'll give you my report tomorrow; you can call me if you need anything else tonight."

Jack nodded and waved in agreement, then turned to leave them alone with the paramedics once again.

Sam opened her mouth to speak once again, but Naomi held up her hand as if to stop her. "Later," she promised. "We'll talk about it later, okay?" Sam nodded wordlessly, and Naomi reached out to clasp their hands together. "Can I do anything else for you before we go?"

"My bag --" Sam whispered weakly.

Naomi lifted the hand by her side, showing that she had picked it up already.

"I --" Sam hesitated. She knew what she needed Naomi to do, but was not certain of how to ask. Too weak and lightheaded to think any further, her voice cracked as she made her request. "Take my phone and call Martin. Tell him I'm going to need a rain check on dinner tonight..."

xxxxx


	25. Chapter 24

xxxxx

_**chapter twenty-four**_

xxxxx

_i'm finding my way back to sanity again  
though i don't really know what  
i'm gonna do when i get there  
take a breath and hold on tight  
spin around one more time  
and gracefully fall back to the arms of grace_  
-Lifehouse, "Breathing"

xx

"You are _such_ a perfectionist!" Rebecca teased as she leaned over Caroline's shoulder.

"Okay, okay! Just one more and then I'm done." Caroline shut the manila folder and put her pen down, stretching out her wrists and swatting playfully at Becca before picking up the last chart from her pile.

Martin glanced at his watch. 7:15. "I don't have a whole lot of time," he warned and tapped his foot nervously, his knee jerking up and down.

"Wow, you are really wound up, Martin," Becca plopped back down on the sofa next to him. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about what's up?"

He breathed deeply and shook his head. He opened his mouth to verbally refuse, but before he could get the words out, the door swung open and Joanne poked her head back in.

"Caro?" She asked with an apologetic smile, "I hate to bother you, but all of the other docs are tied up and rescue just called with a GSW; they need to verify some orders."

"Is it bad?" Caroline asked, closing the file folder and rising from the chair.

"It's not too bad, they think. GSW to the left thigh, apparently the patient is FBI from that bookstore we heard on the radio earlier. They want to know if they can give her some morphine."

"Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a second," Caroline said, running her hands along her forehead. "Can you put in an advance page to whoever's on for trauma surgery? And what's their ETA?"

"About five minutes, and I think Nordlund is on for trauma surgery tonight."

A few seconds later, both Caroline and Joanne had disappeared behind the swinging door. Martin rolled his eyes at Rebecca. "You know," he said, shaking his head and laughing, "Sometimes she's nothing like Dad, and then sometimes ..."

"... she's _exactly_ like him," Rebecca finished, returning his laugh.

xx

_7:20 pm_

The door to the lounge swung back open, and Caroline walked, now wearing a dark blue scrub top and pants. She twisted the combination on her locker and retrieved her white lab coat. She pulled her car keys from her locker as well, tossing them in Martin's direction. "I'm sorry, guys. I need to make sure this GSW is stable before they send her to surgery. I know you have to go, so you can take my car. I'll get a cab home when I'm done."

Martin and Rebecca both stood to follow her back out the door to stand near the ambulance entrance.

"We'll talk later --" Caroline reminded him, as the automatic glass doors slid open and several paramedics rolled a stretcher in.

Caroline rushed forward with several nurses, surrounding the stretcher and blocking the view as he and Rebecca looked on. He listened intently as one paramedic began to rattle off vital signs.

"... 29 year old white female, GSW to the left thigh approximately one hour PTA. Pulse is a little tachy at 116, resps are shallow, BP is 95/60, O2 SATs at 99 on 2 liters. We gave 4 of Morphine en route ... "

But as the group wheeled the stretcher past where he and Rebecca stood and into one of the trauma rooms, Martin's eyes caught a glimpse of the woman who walked in behind them, speaking distractedly on her cell phone. His heart momentarily stopped beating; he knew her.

It was Naomi.

He walked quickly over to where she stood, his legs carrying him involuntarily as there seemed to be a disconnect between his thoughts and his actions at the moment. His heart and mind completely overwhelmed with panic, he forgot that Naomi was not supposed to know anything about himself and Sam: no one was. But in that moment, he would not have cared even if he had remembered.

Naomi tapped anxiously at her phone and sighed in exasperation.

"I, uh, I --" He began to stutter as he approached her, "Agent Russell?"

"Senator Fitzgerald --" She looked up, surprised. "I -- I was trying to get in touch with you."

She held up the phone, and he instantly recognized it as Sam's. "It's Martin," he insisted, breath catching in his throat.

"Naomi," she answered, not meeting his eyes. "Anyway, Sen -- I mean, Martin --" She paused, stumbling over her words as her eyes darted nervously around the busy emergency room. "Maybe we should talk someplace a little bit quieter?" She finally suggested.

He nodded and motioned back to the doctor's lounge, figuring that they would have some degree of privacy away from the prying eyes of other patients and their families. Rebecca followed.

"What happened?" He whispered when they returned to the empty, quiet lounge.

Naomi closed her eyes and held her face in her hands. After a few seconds, she finally looked up.

"It all happened so fast ..."

xx

_10:15 pm_

Martin checked his watch and sighed, again. It had been three hours, and they had said it would be a fairly routine surgery. Every second that ticked by was another second that something could be going wrong.

When Naomi had first told him that Sam had been shot while trying to protect the other hostages, he could barely believe it. He always knew that working for the FBI was dangerous. He could remember countless nights as a child when he would wake up and wander to the kitchen to get a glass of water, only to find his mother still awake and tense with worry. But in spite of his mother's fears, and his own as well, his father had always come home to them; the worst injury Victor had ever suffered on the job was when he broke his left arm when he fell down several stairs while chasing a suspect. Martin barely even remembered that, having been only four at the time.

Martin's eyes once again scanned the small private waiting room where he sat. A tense, awkward silence surrounded him, as he caught Naomi's eyes from the chair where she sat.

"So, Martin?" Naomi cleared her throat. "Sam hasn't really, uh, told me much about you two."

"Yeah," he nodded awkwardly as he began to explain. "We were trying to keep things private for a little while. Adjust and see what happens without the rest of the country getting in our faces unnecessarily."

Naomi offered a small smile and agreed easily. "Sure, of course. That makes sense. How long has it been now?"

"A little over a month," he breathed.

"I figured as much. Sam's seemed different, happier." Naomi paused, reflecting on her words before adding, "I love Sam, but I didn't know she did 'happy.' It suits her, though."

"It hasn't been easy," he admitted. "But so far, it's been worth every one of the complications."

He lowered his eyes and rotated his neck in a futile attempt to stretch out his tight, locked muscles. Sensing Naomi was far too preoccupied with worry to ask him any more questions at the moment, he desperately tried to distract himself, to think of anything that would take his mind off of his own fear...

_Martin stood rooted to the spot in his living room as he watched her through the open kitchen door. She sat at the kitchen table with her back to him, her head bent over several papers that she had managed to spread out over the entire table top, and she scribbled notes intently._

_He was not sure how long he had been watching her, but he found the intensity with which she threw her entire being into her job particularly endearing. From where she sat, she heaved her shoulders in a sigh and propped herself up against her left elbow. She put her pen down and, with her now-free hand, began to collect up the papers she had scattered haphazardly across the table. Paper clips and file folders properly adjusted, she finally leaned herself back in the chair where she sat._

_"Martin?" She called out._

_"Yeah?" He walked through the door to stand right behind her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Did you finish up?" He asked, genuinely interested. He found her stories from work to be far more interesting and appealing than the stories his father had once told of his time in Violent Crimes. In Violent Crimes, all of the stories already had the ultimate ending predetermined, but in Missing Persons, sometimes the more terrible aspects of human nature could be replaced by humorous anecdotes of crazy family dynamics or stories that ended happily as friends and loved ones were reunited._

_"Mmhmm," she said contentedly as he began to slowly massage her shoulders._

_"Anything interesting today?"_

_She shook her head and laughed. "I don't think so. I'm so tired I can barely remember."_

_"You can barely remember?" He mocked in her ear._

_"Well," she said teasingly, "It's not really my fault. You see, this incredibly attractive man showed up at my door late last night. He wasn't entirely sober, and I really couldn't help myself..."_

_"An incredibly attractive man? Really?" He raised his eyebrows in jest, even though she could not see it._

_"Yeah, but there's really no need to get jealous. He had been drinking with some of his old friends, and I think he was still totally hung up on some girl he dated in college..."_

_Sam laughed, and he saw the hint of her smile reflected against the tinted microwave door. He smiled as well, remembering how he had joked with her about his friends swearing he'd never date anyone more gorgeous than the girl he'd dated on and off in college. He remembered her quiet nervousness as he'd told her honestly that she was far more beautiful._

_"Mmm, thanks." She said as he finished massaging her shoulders to take a seat next to her at the table. He reached out and squeezed her hand affectionately._

_"Anytime," he smiled and paused, then added, "college girl..."_

xx

_10:55 pm_

"Hey, Viv," Naomi's voice echoed through the small room as she spoke on her phone. "No, no. We haven't heard anything yet -- Yes, of course, I'll let you know as soon as they tell us anything. -- Yeah, thanks for letting me know. -- Tell Marcus and Reggie 'hi' from me, and I'll talk to you soon."

When Naomi snapped her phone shut, she turned to look at Martin. "That was Vivian," she explained. "They finished processing Barry Mashburn. He was, uh, the guy who ..."

Martin nodded, understanding what she meant without further explanation. Fortunately, the nervous silence that followed was quickly interrupted by a knock at the door, as a tall man in surgical scrubs stepped inside.

"I'm Dr. Nordlund," he introduced himself. "Agent Spade came through the surgery just fine. We repaired all of the tissue damaged by the bullet, and we stabilized the hairline fracture in her femur. We gave her a few units of blood to replace all of the blood she lost, and prophylactic antibiotics because she's at an increased risk of infection. She's going to need some physical therapy, but she should recover well and be ready to go home in just a few days."

"When can we see her?" Martin asked, still trying to take in all of the information.

"She'll be in recovery for a little while longer, and then we'll move her to a private room. She's still pretty groggy from the anesthesia, so we would recommend going in one at a time... Anyway, I need to get back to my patients. If you have any questions or if you need anything, just let one of our nurses know."

The surgeon gave them a very professional nod of his head, and then left them alone in the room, once again.

Naomi immediately retrieved her phone to give the rest of the Missing Persons team the good news, while Martin sat in silence.

If he had thought the wait for her to be out of surgery was interminable, the far shorter wait for her to be moved from recovery to a private room seemed to last even longer. He was exhausted and emotionally drained, but he knew he would not be able to rest until he saw for his own eyes that she was going to be alright. That was when he remembered the talk he wanted to have with her over dinner, and he realized that he had the answer to his unspoken question.

After a seemingly endless wait, a nurse finally came to inform them that she had been moved into a private room and would they like to see her.

Naomi insisted that he go first, for which he vowed he would be eternally grateful.

He entered the room cautiously, not wanting to wake her if she had fallen back asleep. The dark room was illuminated only by several monitors beeping eerily in the background; there were no stars out that night. Sam lay on the hospital bed, IV attached to one arm and several other wires attached to her other arm and her chest. The steady beat of her heart echoed from one of the machines, and he was certain he had never been so relieved and overjoyed to see anyone in his entire life.

He stood by her beside for several minutes before gathering up the courage to reach out and touch her, to reassure himself that she was, in fact, still there. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead gently, and when he pulled back, he felt her begin to wake up.

"Martin?" She said, confused, her voice weak and hoarse.

His heart leapt, and he smiled down at her. He reached out to hold one of her hands in his, and whispered, "Hey, college girl."

xxxxx


	26. Chapter 25

xxxxx

_**chapter twenty-five**_

xxxxx

_nothing matters  
except life and the love you make_  
-Coldplay, "Crest of Waves"

xx

_May 17, 2003  
3:00 pm_

Martin snuck down the now-familiar hospital corridor and into Samantha's room, carefully checking the bag tucked underneath his armpit and ensuring that it was still in place. Although he knew staff members were bound by confidentiality and HIPAA regulations not to reveal any information about a patient's identity, he knew he could be fair game in the media if he did not proceed cautiously.

At this point, he knew that he was committed to this for the foreseeable future and that he would eventually like for people to know. But he did not want to push too hard just yet, especially given the events of the past few days.

He quickly entered her room and closed the door behind him, finding her sitting up in bed doing the Times crossword puzzle.

She looked up. "Hey Mr. Senator," she said teasingly. "Former nuclear agency, abbreviation, three letters."

He bent over to kiss her, and laughed. "What, no 'hi, how are you?'"

"Not really, no," she smiled and turned her nose up as she motioned to her leg. "I think I get to play that card for a few more days."

He pulled the chair up to sit right beside the bed. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Better, much better," she nodded honestly. "Whatever they're giving me is making me tired, though."

He reached out to squeeze her hand. From everything the doctors had said, she really did seem to be improving quickly, and if things stayed on schedule, she would be released in just a few days. There would still be several months of painful physical therapy, but he knew Sam would be as determined as anyone. She seemed content enough at the moment, though he could sense a degree of nervous energy; Sam did not like to sit still for very long.

"I brought you something," he said, and he lifted the bag out from under his arm. He opened the bag and revealed several sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil. The foil crinkled as he laid the sandwiches down on the bed in front of her. "Aunt Bonnie went crazy with her panini grill at lunch. I thought you might like some real food," he explained.

She raised her eyebrows and laughed, "I thought food was supposed to be the way to a _man's_ heart."

"If you don't want them ..." he trailed off with a grin, reaching forward as he pretended to confiscate the sandwiches.

She shook her head and slapped his hand away, and he once again appreciated just how well their conversation the previous evening had gone as far as relieving the tension between them.

xx

_Martin took a deep breath as he watched Sam flip channels anxiously, pressing the remote control buttons with far more force than necessary. Last night, when she had been waking up from the anesthesia, things had been far more comfortable between them, but now that she was fully awake and oriented once again, the large metaphorical elephant had returned in full force._

_"Samantha," he warned, as she passed the TV Land MASH marathon for the fourth time._

_"What?" she answered defensively, turning the television off and dropping the remote with a sigh._

_"I know we've been working on a mutual agreement not to mention anything that might set us off, but I really think now might be a good time for us to have the talk we were planning on having last night." She looked at him questioningly, and he realized that she was just trying to circumvent the subject for as long as possible. "Okay, so maybe I was the only one who wanted to have that talk. But that doesn't change the fact that we need to talk about this."_

_"Alright," she agreed, giving a tight nod. "If you promise to stay put this time. I'm not great at following even when I have full use of my legs."_

_Underneath her sarcasm, he could sense her hurt at the way that he had practically flown from her apartment the night that he found out. He quickly wracked his brain for the right words, knowing that the wrong ones would set them back even further and that he could not afford to work swimming that far upstream. "I'm sorry, Sam," he said softly. "When you first told me about Jack, you ... it was definitely not what I was expecting. You don't mention him very often when you talk about work; my mind didn't even go there." He paused, recollecting his thoughts while she stared intently back at him. "I just ... overreacted."_

_He wondered what was running through her mind, and held his breath as he waited for her to reply. She inhaled deeply and tilted her head to look up at him. She spoke slowly and deliberately, and he realized that she was just as nervous about treading into these waters as he was. "I can't lie and say that what I had with Jack didn't mean something to me at the time," she said softly. "But it's over, it's been over, and it's in the past."_

_"I know, and I believe you," he said honestly, "but I can't help feeling a little bit jealous, you know. I just keep thinking that maybe old feeling die hard..."_

_Sam crossed her arms protectively across her chest, and he studied her face carefully as she replied. "Old feelings don't die, they just ... fade. And then you feel bad that they faded, because you wonder ... you wonder what they meant when you had them."_

_He smiled weakly down at her, still searching for reassurance. "Well, I guess if they didn't fade, there wouldn't be room for new ones."_

_She reached out to take his hand in hers, "No, I guess there wouldn't," she said, lips curling slowly upward as she allowed her eyes to fully meet his. "It's not something I'm particularly proud of, but at the same time, I don't want to focus on the past anymore. Right now, I'm happy." His gaze intensified, his eyes hiding nervous hopefulness and excitement. She smiled and continued, "You make me really, really happy."_

_He searched his brain for a profound response. He found none. "Me too," he said, and he grinned broadly._

xx

_9:00 pm_

Martin now sat at the desk in his office, glancing over the specific wordings of a new healthcare reform bill that had been introduced late in the week.

He had spent several hours at the hospital that afternoon, but Sam had tired quickly when they gave her more pain medicine. He left her sleeping soundly, with a note to call him later if she got bored and wanted company.

Martin took another sip from his coffee mug, his eyes crossing as he attempted to focus on the document open on the computer screen. He knew he needed to be reading this more closely; Mike Lively was known for introducing strange loopholes in legislation that he needed to catch before floor discussion was complete.

A shrill ring echoed from his home line, and he instinctively knew that this would be the last distraction for the evening: healthcare reform would have to wait until he returned to Washington the next day.

"Hello?" He answered, recognizing his father's cell number on the caller ID.

"Martin," his father's gruff voice replied. "I'm pulling into your driveway; I just wanted you to know who it was when I get to the front door."

Without another word, he heard the other line go silent as his father ended the call. Less than a minute later, a sharp knock came from the door and he hurried to answer it. "Thanks for the advance warning, Dad," he rolled his eyes and spoke softly, as though his father might hear his muttering. He plastered a tight, fake smile on his face and opened the door. "Hi, Dad, come on in."

"How are you doing, son?" His father asked, walking ahead into the living room.

"Fine," Martin replied, able to hide the perplexed look on his face as he followed. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Victor took a seat on the sofa and carefully inspected the framed photograph of the entire family sitting on one of the end tables. "We just haven't seen much of you this weekend."

"You rushed out of Bridget's party the second you got a call from the office. Don't give me that," Martin said warningly. Caroline and Rebecca both knew exactly where he had been and, from a few comments his mother had made, he guessed she was not far off from guessing the truth, either. But where his mother had fully mellowed with grandchildren, his father still occasionally clung hard to his old ways and had obviously not noticed, even though he was not actively hiding it from his family.

"Yes, but you've seemed distracted. Are you sure everything is alright? Nothing big has happened in session this week, has it?" His father's tone emulated a strange mix of professional advisor and fatherly concern.

Martin furrowed his eyebrows and chose his words carefully. "I told you, I'm fine. Everything is going well; I've just been looking for the loopholes in Lively's latest healthcare reform bill."

"Lively is a complete idiot. I've heard rumors that Dustin Martel is the frontrunner to challenge him when he comes up for re-election next year."

Martin nodded in agreement before deciding that he should be forthcoming with his suspicions about his father's behavior. Victor sounded like he was making small talk, and his father never minces words unless absolutely necessary. "Dad? Is everything alright with _you_?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Everything is fine," Victor said distractedly, still gazing at the frame on the end table.

"And this doesn't have anything to do with why you were called away on Thursday?" Martin pushed, still trying to decipher the meaning of his father's sudden visit.

His father turned back to look at him, his tone suddenly sounding much more certain. "No, that all turned out alright. I was supposed to pick up a few files from Agent Van Doren, and she called to tell me that she had not had a chance to give them back to her secretary because she had been detained due to a hostage situation. I had to travel further across town to get to her." Victor trailed off and frowned, "The two agents that were hostages, they were agents on Malone's team. I thought you would want to know that they are both going to be alright. One of them got shot, but it was --"

"A through and through," Martin interrupted, not feeling up to hearing his father's version of events. Victor looked up, confused, and Martin began to explain, "I know, Dad. It was Sam."

"Sam?" Victor repeated emphatically.

"Yes," he replied simply. "They think she'll be ready to go home by Tuesday."

"And you and _Sam_ are ...?"

Martin nodded; this was not how he envisioned the conversation going. "We are."

"And you--"

He threw up his hands in protest. "Don't, just ... don't," he said. "Yes, I _do_ know. It's not a problem for us, so it shouldn't be a problem for you."

Victor sighed, his expression verging between shocked and wounded. "No, Martin," he said in a low voice. "All I wanted to ask was if you're happy."

Martin frowned, trying to gauge if his father was really hurt by the conclusions he'd drawn. It seemed as honest as his father had ever been with him, and Martin felt a slight ache in his heart. "Yeah," he breathed, recalling her words from the previous evening. "She makes me really, really happy."

His father gave a rare smile. "Then that's all I need to know."

xxxxx


	27. Chapter 26

xxxxx

_**chapter twenty-six**_

xxxxx

_is your girl of glass something that never mends  
or is she a puzzle that fell  
that we could mend again_  
-Trespassers William, "Broken"

xx

_May 20, 2003  
6:35 pm_

Sam groaned and rolled over, trying to block the glare of the setting sun that seeped into her bedroom through an open spot in her curtains.

There was still a soreness, an ache, in the healing wound on her left thigh. But in spite of that, as she sat up in bed, she felt markedly better overall. She leaned over to where her crutches lay propped up against the dresser and hoisted herself off the bed, supporting her weight with her arms.

Slowly inching her way into the bathroom, Sam felt herself adjusting to moving around on crutches, although she was already anxious for her broken bone to heal. She put the toilet seat down and sat down to change the dressing. Pealing back the bandage, she bent her head forward and inspected the sutures, which were scheduled to come out at her follow up appointment late next week. The skin was still red and angry, although significantly less so than just a few days before. She ran a finger lightly along the suture line and checked for signs of infection before reapplying the gauze loosely as her nurses had instructed her to do.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the mirror and the shower, realizing it would be several more days before she would be able to wash her hair again. It would be far too difficult to maneuver into the shower and support herself while trying to keep the sutures dry for the next two days, particularly while she was still taking the hydrocodone. She vowed to herself to have decreased the amount of pain medication she was taking by the end of the week though, not really liking how tired it made her.

She found herself, once again, resenting the distance between Martin and herself, a feeling that was becoming all too frequent since he had returned to Washington on Sunday. She wanted to blame it on stress and the pain medicine, to be able to ignore the voice in her head insisting that it was something far deeper.

She shook her head and sighed to herself, wondering how long it would be before they would let her come back to work. Even just desk duty sounded more appealing than sitting alone in her apartment with her thoughts, but she could not even do that much until she was released by her surgeon _and_ she had been cleared by both Jack and Van Doren.

The familiar sound of her buzzer interrupted her musings, and she stood to put on her bathrobe. It was still an arduous task to balance herself on the crutches while she dressed herself, but it was getting easier with practice. She cursed under her breath and called "I'm coming!" to whoever happened to be at her door.

She slowly hobbled through the living room to reach her front door, turning the dead bolt and opening the door. "Hey, Naomi," she greeted her friend, welcoming the distractions in her otherwise quiet apartment.

"Hey," Naomi smiled, walking in and shutting the door behind her. "How are you doing?"

"Ugh," Sam groaned. "You know, as much as I hated the hospital, at least there were other people around. I'm going to go stir crazy and I've only been home since about noon."

"Yeah, I figured you could use some company since your otherwise very attentive boyfriend is detained in Washington," Naomi teased as they walked to the sofa to sit, Sam propping her leg up against the coffee table, elevating it as instructed.

"About that," Sam started, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you myself ..."

"You did, though ... when you asked me to call him. I'm not stupid, you know." Naomi laughed. "Dinner plans with the Senator aren't normal things on a social calendar."

Sam laughed, her face feeling slightly flushed. "Still, though, I'm sorry. It's just ... with what he does, and what his father does, we didn't want to risk anything getting out until we were ready."

"Martin told me," she said, smiling. "You know, I'm really happy for you Sam... You deserve this; he's one of the good ones. Trust me, I know about these things."

"I know," Sam agreed, closing her eyes and trying not to say too much. She felt extremely protective of what she had with Martin and, even though she knew and trusted Naomi, was wary of including others in something that she wanted to keep private.

"How's your leg feeling?" Naomi asked. "I know you're probably sick of answering that question, but is there anything I can get you?"

"No, I'm fine," Sam shook her head and leaned back against the sofa. They fell into an awkward silence, Sam weighing her options before deciding to broach the subject. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"About what?" Naomi whispered.

"About what happened on Thursday, about Thomas, about Barry ... anything."

Naomi's shoulders fell forward, and she massaged her temple. She wiped at the tears forming her eyes, her voice breaking as she spoke. "Barry was just so ... I mean, I've been there. Every day. And they say that in time, it's supposed to get better, but it's still there and it never changes. You just get better at ignoring it."

Unsure of what to say, Sam simply reached out to rub Naomi's arm reassuringly and waited for her friend to continue as she felt comfortable doing so.

"You know that Russell was his name. When we got married, I didn't want to take his name. I changed it after ... Well, let's just say that I'm sure his mother still hates me for that." She said bitterly. "He knew, too. His office was in the South Tower, and when he saw the North Tower get hit, he called me and left a message. 'I don't know what's going on, but a plane just hit the North Tower and I'm going to get out of here. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.' ... On the stairs, he would have been right about at the floor where the second plane hit."

Naomi was crying in earnest now, no longer attempting to hide her tears. Sam shifted her body to lean in, and pulled Naomi to rest against her chest. Biting back her own tears, she held her friend while she cried.

xx

_Washington DC  
8:45 pm_

Martin sat at his parents' kitchen table, looking over pictures from Bridget's birthday party with his mother. He laughed as he looked at the six rolls of film his mother had laid out on the table; Rebecca had inherited her snap happy nature from their mother.

He glanced over a series of pictures of Bridget setting up her dollhouse, Kelsey standing behind her with her hands on her hips and calling out orders as to where all of the furniture pieces belonged.

"This one turned out really well," his mother said, holding up a picture of him on the sofa, one of the girls leaned up on either side of him.

"Yeah, it did," he took the photograph in his hand and smiled.

"You know, Kelsey and Bridget really missed you when you weren't there over the weekend. They adore you..." Lydia trailed off and reached out to squeeze his hand. "But I'm glad that you got everything sorted out. Am I ever going to get to meet this mystery woman?"

Martin looked down, his face flushed and a smile playing on his lips. "You've already met her."

"I have?" His mother questioned, confusion etched across her face.

"Yeah, you have," he replied, glancing across the table to try to read her expression. "Sam ... Agent Spade. You remember her, right?"

"Yes, of course. I guess that was how your Secret Service agents knew her?"

"Well, actually," he paused, laughing at the absurdity of how he and Samantha had met. "We didn't start dating until after ... We had only met once before that night."

"I guess some good came from that night after all," his mother nodded, smiling. "It's good to see you happy, Martin. I hope you two had a good weekend together."

Martin gave a weak smile and tightened his posture, still nervous at the prospect of Sam being alone in her apartment while rather unsteady on her feet and on heavy pain medication. He wished Lively had held off on introducing this giant healthcare bill so that he could have engineered a way to stay in New York for a few more days.

"What's wrong, Martin?" His mother said, concern in her eyes. "Did something happen between the two of you?"

He shook his head, inhaling deeply. "No, nothing like that. I'm just worried about her. There was a hostage situation last Thursday, and she got shot in the leg ..." Lydia gasped, and Martin quickly interjected, continuing his explanation. "She's going to be fine; the doctors actually let her gone home today. It's just ... she's all alone in her apartment, and I'd rather be there with her."

"That's great that she's going to be okay, Martin," his mother soothed reassuringly. "But why are you here with your old mother in your precious few hours away from work? You miss her that much, go call her, you fool," she said, grinning.

Martin looked at his mother bemusedly, rubbing his chin.

"What?" His mother teased. "Your father might be completely hopeless, but there is still hope for you Marty. Listen to your mother. This is an order, not a request."

He stood up from the table and walked around to hug his mother. "Yes, ma'am," he laughed.

"Now go!"

Martin took his cell phone from his jacket pocket as he walked into the next room, still laughing at his mother's obvious exuberance at the fact that he was seeing someone. He dialed the now extremely familiar numbers and waited to see if she would pick up on the other end. He knew with the pain medicine, she could be asleep or in no state to talk, but he did want to try. If nothing else, he could at least leave her a message.

"Hey, you."

He smiled at the sound of her voice. "Hey. How are you doing?"

"Pretty well, actually. Naomi stopped by for awhile to keep me company."

"Oh, good," he said, genuinely pleased that her teammates seemed to be looking out for her in subtle ways that she would permit. "Did you have a good time?"

"It was good," her voice seemed to soften on the other end of the line. "It was ... we needed to have that talk. I'll have to tell you about it sometime."

He sensed the exhaustion in her voice, assuming it had just as much to do with her visit with Naomi as it did with her pain meds. She obviously did not want to go into details at the moment, but he felt hopeful that she seemed to want to confide in him at some point in the near future. "Sure, of course," he breathed. "Whenever you want."

"Yes," she said, her voice growing more certain as she tried to shake off whatever it was. "Anyway, how are you doing? How are the hearings?"

"The hearings are interminable," he groaned into the receiver, not hiding his disdain for the endless rounds of back and forth that he had endured for the past two days. "But I'm at my parents' house right now. Mom got back the first half of her film from the weekend. I swear, it's good to know where Becca gets it from."

Sam's soft laughed echoed on the line, and he felt his heart pulse slightly faster.

"So, you're at your parents' house?" she said, a hint of teasing in her tone.

"Yeah. Why?" he asked cautiously.

She paused for a beat, her breath heavy on the other side of the phone. He was expecting a taunting or provocative remark, but suddenly, inexplicably, the tone on Sam's end changed.

"Nothing," she said quietly "It's just ... I miss you."

He cradled the receiver against his ear and exhaled. "I miss you, too."

xxxxx


	28. Chapter 27

xxxxx

_**chapter twenty-seven**_

xxxxx

_so i'll check the weather wherever you are  
'cause i want to know if you can see the stars tonight  
might be my only light_  
-John Mayer, "Split Screen Sadness"

xx

_June 2, 2003  
New York City  
8:25 am_

"Jack?" Sam nervously knocked against the glass windows of his office and opened the door when he motioned for her to come in.

"Hey, Sam," he said, putting down the paperwork he held in his hands. "It's good to see you back."

Sitting down on the sofa and leaning her crutches against the side, she nodded tersely. She had not spoken to Jack in the two weeks since she'd been shot, other than a brief message he had left wishing her well and an even briefer message she had left telling him that she would be back at work this morning. "It's good to be back," she said. "Sorry I'm a few minutes late. It's hard to navigate with these things," she motioned to her crutches. "I should be rid of them by next week though, if all goes well."

"That's good to hear," Jack said, standing and walking around to join her on the sofa.

"Anyway, I just wanted to check in briefly," she felt suddenly uncomfortable, wishing he would have left more than a foot's distance between them. "I know I can't do too much, but are there any leads I can run down in the computer?"

Jack shook his head. "We don't have any active cases right now, but Danny has three weeks' worth of old leads that he's going back through so that we can file them away."

Sam laughed in spite of herself, glancing out to the conference table where Danny sat, posture slackened, with multiple large piles of paperwork stacked up in front of him. She could not see his face, but she could only imagine what he was muttering under his breath.

Jack smiled and raised his eyebrows suggestively. "You're sure you don't want to take a few more days off while you can?"

"No," she said curtly. "I needed to get out of my apartment and go someplace other than the doctor's or physical therapy. I want to keep busy."

"Good," he said. "I'm glad you're back. It hasn't been the same without you."

She frowned at him, her intuition picking up on strange vibes emanating from him. "Jack?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows warningly.

"It's just ... I'm sorry that I haven't called you or stopped by. Things here have been busy with us down an agent, and I wasn't sure if you would be alone..." Jack trailed off, a trace of bitterness hinted in his voice.

"Don't sweat it, Jack," she said tersely. She was not interested in his excuses, and silently cursed the days when she had been so dependent upon them. Once again, she considered admitting that she was seeing someone else. But it was obvious that he knew as much, and she did not want to field questions as to Martin's identity. Things were much easier between them without her former lover getting wind of the fact that she was dating the Deputy Director's son -- who also happened to have turned heads as one of the most persuasive, talented Junior Senators in the past few weeks with the way he came out against Mike Lively's healthcare bill. The general public responded well to the manner in which he was not afraid to advocate honestly at a level geared towards reality. And she smiled inwardly at all of the columnists she had read who proclaimed how refreshing it was to have a politician who could be trusted. Her smile grew when she realized how frequently she was tuning into CSPAN and CNN, and seeking out the political columns in the newspapers. She looked up, feeling Jack's eyes still on her intently. "Is there something else, Jack?" she said with a small sigh.

Jack looked at her sadly, a wistful expression on his face, and Sam found herself feeling sorry for him. Jack was not an inherently bad person; he just had a tendency to make extremely poor decisions. And just because she no longer felt anything romantic towards him did not mean that she did not value his friendship.

"Maria and I are getting a divorce," he said finally, wringing his hands together.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she said honestly. She mentally quelled her own sense of guilt, reminding herself that Maria and Jack had their marital problems long before she ever entered the picture. "I really am. How are Hanna and Kate doing with it?"

"Worse than I am, I think. Hanna is furious and won't speak to me. Kate is dejected and quiet, and won't speak to anyone. Maria and I are going to try to settle everything outside of court if we can, try to minimize what the girls have to go through."

"That's good," she nodded, not particularly interested in his legal proceedings. She stood and grabbed hold of her crutches, trying to indicate that listening to any more of this conversation would be improper and unprofessional of them. "I really am sorry, Jack," she repeated, leaning her weight forward on the crutches and leaving his office.

Back in the bullpen, Danny looked up from his stacks of paperwork and immediately rushed to greet her.

"Hey, hot stuff! Welcome back!" He exclaimed, embracing her awkwardly as her crutches got in the way.

She laughed and hugged him back, genuinely happy to be back at work.

xx

_Washington DC  
11:40 am_

"Great work this morning, Martin" Colin Adair said, walking up to where he sat on a bench in the rotunda outside the Senate offices. "I think you really persuaded some of the people who were on the fence about moving forward."

"Thanks," Martin said, taking a bite out of his sandwich and leaning against the wooden back of the bench.

Colin sat down beside him, turning towards him and suddenly looking very serious. "You know," he started slowly. "When you were elected back in November, a lot of people were skeptical about you -- myself included. We assumed you were too young, too inexperienced, and that you wouldn't be able to cut it. Let me just be the first to say that you've proven everyone wrong a hundred times over." Colin paused, laughing quietly. "I should have listened to my wife."

Martin raised his eyebrows, both pleased at the professional praise and confused as to the purpose of the conversation. "What do you mean?"

"She knew you were going to be great from the get go. You really won her over with the way you handled your campaign, and then the way you handled the media frenzy following your election." Colin chuckled again. "This is something you won't understand until you're married, but when your wife tells you that she's right, don't argue with her. It's not worth the effort, and she's always right anyway."

Martin drank slowly from his water bottle, trying to hide the smirk on his face without much luck. "Duly noted," he quipped.

xx

_New York City  
4:10 pm_

Samantha balanced her weight between her good leg and one crutch, lifting the other to push open the door to the break room long enough to hobble inside. She found Vivian and Naomi sitting at the table, their backs to her as they focused on the television screen in the corner.

"Hey, guys," she said as they turned around to see who had just entered. "What's going on?"

"Not much," Naomi said, her eyes sparkling and laughter hinting in her voice. "Just watching a replay of the Senate proceedings from this morning."

"I just suggested that we take a break from paperwork," Vivian said, turning her attention back towards the television. "She was the one who wanted to put CSPAN on."

"What can I say?" Naomi raised an eyebrow suggestively at Samantha, obviously intensely enjoying this moment. "I'm interested!"

Sam rolled her eyes playfully at her friend, who was having far too much fun being the sole person knowing about her relationship with Martin. "Anything interesting?" She said, trying to feign only casual interest in spite of the fact that Martin was planning on speaking that morning. She'd been trying to catch a break to see how it had gone all day, but to no avail. Whenever she had a few seconds' free time, Danny or Jack seemed to be in the way.

"Senator Fitzgerald seemed to pretty much seal the deal on that healthcare bill this morning." Vivian said offhandedly.

"Oh, really?" Sam asked, taking the seat at the table in between her two colleagues.

"Apparently, the guy who introduced it put in some fine print that would actually cut benefits for government employees and the military, among others, while adding benefits for big business owners only." Vivian explained, "We missed the detailed part of the explanation, but that was the general gist we got."

"That's typical Lively," Sam started, before she realized what she was saying. "He's done it a thousand times before, and people are finally catching on. There's no way he gets re-elected next year." She bit her lip nervously, feeling both Naomi and Vivian's eyes on her.

"Oh really?" Vivian narrowed her eyes, her gaze intense. "This is the first I've heard about it."

Sam shrugged, trying to play it down even though this felt akin to an interrogation. "I've been doing some reading," she calculated her words carefully.

"Reading," Naomi chimed in. "Right. So _that's_ what they're calling it these days."

Sam shook her head, embarrassed, and her face flushed. Unable to think of a suitable response, she shrugged her shoulders once more, and Vivian and Naomi shared a knowing look.

She laughed in spite of herself.

xxxxx


	29. Chapter 28

xxxxx

_**chapter twenty-eight**_

xxxxx

_just a look  
can make me feel it might be worth  
the trouble just to see the look  
it kills me i forget  
i don't believe in love  
and i want to believe_  
-The Pernice Brothers, "She Heightened Everything"

xx

_July 29, 2003  
9:00 am_

Sam drew in a sharp breath at the phantom pain in her thigh as she stepped out of the elevator and entered the bullpen. She was progressing well through physical therapy, her limp now far less pronounced, and although she would occasionally have phantom sensations, they normally resolved on their own relatively quickly. She had not been cleared for full field work yet, but she had slowly been allowed to go back on interviews and she would likely be getting the medical 'all clear' in the next few weeks.

All things considered, she offhandedly thought about how well everything seemed to be going for her at the moment. A thought that simultaneously thrilled and terrified her.

She had been growing increasingly wary of her happiness, so much so that Martin was beginning to notice her trepidation in spite of her best efforts to keep it hidden...

_They sat on opposite ends of the sofa, Martin focused intently on the baseball game while she pretended to work on the Times crossword without much luck. Her mind was racing from earlier that day, when she had realized how uncharacteristically well everything in her life was going: she had been allowed to go interview a family member that morning for the first time since she'd been shot - making her that much closer to going back to full field work, and she could look forward to the weekend, knowing that Martin would be in town. Although the geographic reality kept them apart more often than either would have liked, they had finally managed to work out a regular phone schedule that suited them both. Undoubtedly helped along by the lack of field work she had done in that time period, but nevertheless, things between them had been progressing well. The only thing that bothered her was how quickly she had become completely comfortable around him._

_"Oh, come on! Take him out, Torre. Take him out now!" Martin began to curse loudly at the television screen._

_She looked up from the crossword puzzle that she was not, in fact, filling out, and grinned bemusedly as he got worked up at the game. "What happened?" She asked, laughing._

_"That piece of crap Benetiz just blew the lead," he muttered, still shaking his head._

_"I'm sorry?" she offered._

_"Oh, no. It's going to be fine. The score is tied, and we're still going to win this thing. It's just that now Torre has to bring Mo in for an extra out because Benetiz can't hold a lead."_

_"Oh, okay," she said, still smiling. She enjoyed seeing this side of him: the side that was relaxed at home on a Friday night, his boyish exuberance at a baseball game, the man who adored his sisters and nieces. The man who was slowly making himself a permanent fixture in her heart, although she was still wary to admit as much._

_She felt a small wave of sadness tug at her heart as she watched him. Things between them were getting serious, especially as far as he was concerned. His entire family knew, and she knew it was only going to be a matter of time before he wanted to be less secretive about them._

_And if she didn't have herself convinced it would be as good as signing the death certificate for their relationship, she might actually find herself warming up to the idea._

_"Hey, what's on your mind?" Martin asked, hitting the 'mute' button on the remote control and scooting closer to where she sat on the sofa._

_"What do you mean?" she replied, trying to shrug it off._

_"You got quiet all of a sudden."_

_"I've been quiet the whole time," she quipped, giving him a small smile. "I've let your ESPN boys do all the talking."_

_"Well, we could always turn on the radio and listen to Sterling and Waldman call the game. I know her voice is annoying as all hell, but they do kind of grow on you after awhile..." he teased, lifting her chin to meet her eyes. "But really, Sam. What's up? There's quiet and then there's completely silent, and you don't just sit still like that."_

_"I'm fine," she said firmly, burying her doubts in the pit of her stomach. For now, things were okay, and she didn't want to ruin that by raising unnecessary issues. "Just tired, I guess. I'm sick of them all watching out for me like I'm going to break if I move too quickly."_

_"They're just worried," he offered, running his hand reassuringly along her face, trying to calm her. "They're your team, and they care about you."_

_Giving him the best smile she could muster, she teased, "Yeah, but they should take pointers from you. When you worry, you manage to be a lot more endearing."_

_"I do what I can," he grinned. "But then again, I __**have**__ to be endearing about it. I'm not armed; they are."_

_"Very funny," she said, and pulled him closer to her to kiss him._

_But as their lips met and their tongues mingled, she couldn't help but feel that he could see through the majority of her excuses._

"Morning, Samantha," Vivian called, walking up to the conference table and pulling one of the chairs out to sit down.

"Did you get anything from the stockbroker?" Sam asked, spinning her chair around to face where Vivian sat.

"Nothing. He was completely useless," Vivian shook her head as she answered. "How are you doing?" Vivian's tone went immediately from professional to friendly. "You look a little flushed."

"I'm fine, Viv," she replied, giving a small nod and trying to push thoughts of Martin from her mind.

"That's good," Vivian gave her a knowing look, a cross between mother and older sister. "How was your weekend."

"It was fine," Sam said, trying to sound as offhanded as possible. "How was yours."

"Great. Reggie spent the weekend at the beach with some friends, so Marcus and I had some peace and quiet."

Sam smiled at her friend, but their quiet conversation was instantly interrupted by Danny and Naomi's voices, carrying in from the hallway.

"... I don't think the wife has anything to do with it, Danny," Naomi said warningly.

"How can you be so sure?" Danny asked.

"I just ... am, okay? Please, just trust me. She doesn't know anything."

Sam inhaled quietly and called out over her shoulder, "Hey, guys."

"Morning, Sam," Naomi said, giving her an appreciative smile. Naomi had explained that, while her marital status was obviously in her personnel file, it was still something that she chose not to have as common knowledge in the office unless it became absolutely necessary. Understanding her reasoning, Sam wanted to respect her wishes.

"Jack said the broker was probably our best bet, and Viv said he had nothing," Sam said, trying to diffuse the situation between Danny and Naomi. And while she was fiercely protective of Naomi after learning about Thomas, she empathized with Danny, who was simply trying to make sure they gave due diligence to every possible lead -- and who had no idea that by his suggestion, he may have struck Naomi a little too close to home.

"Speaking of Jack," Vivian nodded her head in the direct of Jack's office as he approached the conference table.

"Oh, good. You're all back." He said matter-of-factly. "We just got a hit on that cell phone number that Gerald called from the payphone outside the Laundromat. It was traced to a Christopher Bridgewater, who is a visiting professor at University of Maryland this semester." Jack paused, surveying the team that was gathered around him for a few seconds, and then continued, "Naomi and Vivian, I'm going to put you on the next flight to DC."

"I can't, Jack," Vivian shook her head. "Danny and I have to be at Fred Gellar's sentencing hearing tomorrow at 8:00, and there's no way you can guarantee I'll be back by then."

"DC, you say?" Naomi asked. "So this is U Maryland at College Park?"

"Yes," Jack answered, sighing. "I guess I could go with you."

"Nah, don't worry about it," Naomi said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Sam can go."

Sam waited until the rest of the team had disbanded to glare at Naomi warningly.

Naomi smiled innocently.

Sam laughed.

xx

_Washington DC  
8:55 pm_

The elevator doors slid shut behind him, and Martin pressed his index finger against the small button until the number '5' lit up. The elevator jerked into motion, and Martin leaned back against the wall with a sigh.

Sam had seemed excited and playful when he'd spoken to her on the phone about an hour ago. He had a sinking feeling that there was something on her mind over the weekend that she had not voiced, but he kept trying to convince himself that it was just his imagination overreacting and reading too much into it. Of course she would be tired, given how much of herself she poured into her job.

But still, it was reassuring to hear her in a good mood as they spoke that evening.

She was still a mystery to him in so many ways, although he was becoming familiar with her habits and thoughts and unspoken fears. And the time between the weekends that they got to spend together seemed to stretch out longer and longer; once every three or four weeks no longer seemed to work for him. It had only been two days since he'd left New York, and it already had been too long.

He breathed in as the elevator came to a halt on the fifth floor, the doors sliding loudly open and announcing his presence to the otherwise empty corridor. There was no point in going home, where he would only mope around and feel intensely lonely without her. So, taking a page out of her own book, he'd mentioned to her that he might as well get some work done in the Senate offices when he knew it would be quiet and he could work without interruption.

Approaching his office, he took his keys out of the pocket of his slacks, furrowing his brows when he finds the door already unlocked. He peers inside the darkened office, wondering why Beverly forgot to lock the door on her way out.

Taking out the key to his own office, he frowned as he turned the door knob and the door creaked open, already unlocked as well. Quickly flicking on the lights, his eyes settled on the figure sitting at his desk.

She tilted her head up at him, and he felt his heart begin to race at the familiar sight of her.

"Hey," she said softly, standing up from his desk chair and walking over to greet him. She smiled slyly. "Surprise."

xxxxx


	30. Chapter 29

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: This chapter contains NC-17 material. It is not essential to the plot and can easily be skipped if you so choose.

xxxxx

_**chapter twenty-nine**_

xxxxx

_but i think that you're wild  
when you flash that fragile smile  
you might think it's foolish  
what you put me through  
you might think i'm crazy  
but all i want is you_  
-The Cars, "You Might Think"

xx

She reached out, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to her. He quickly recovered from the shock of her surprise appearance, although his heart was still pounding in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist and settled his body against hers.

"I, um ... Hey," he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Jack sent Naomi and I down to interview a visiting professor at University of Maryland in connection with a case we're looking into," she said, leaning forward to kiss him.

He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers before pulling away and laughing quietly. "No, no... That's not what I meant."

"Really?" She teased.

"Well, okay ... it's kind of what I meant," he paused, willing his heart to slow down enough to pump some blood back to his brain and allow him a clear thought process -- not an easy task with Samantha's body snug against his own and her playful smile warming him to the core. "How did you ... get in?" He finally managed.

At this, Sam grinned mischievously and ran her fingers along the nape of his neck, sending pleasant tingling sensations down the length of his spine. "You underestimate me," she raised her eyebrows suggestively. "I got past security downstairs with my badge. As far as your office door is concerned? You should get your locks changed. They're really easy to pick."

He laughed against her lips before deepening their kiss, smiling as she relaxed against him and easily opened her mouth to allow his tongue access. Her hands ran along his shoulders and biceps, then trailed indistinct patterns along his neck and to his jaw line, while his own hands caressed the smooth contours of her back through the thin material of her blouse. He inhaled deeply, the smell of her perfume and shampoo and something else that was distinctly _her_ washing over his senses, and he felt alive.

When they finally pulled away, she beamed up at him, an impish grin playing on her lips through slow, shallow, uneven breaths that matched his own panting. "What?" she said innocently as he gazed tenderly down at the sight of her.

He pushed a lock of her sleek blonde hair back behind her ear and breathed, "Nothing. It's just ... I'm really happy to see you."

"Mmm," she murmured from low in her throat, grinding her hips slowly against his. "I can see that."

His hips thrust forward instinctively in response, his erection already straining at his slacks. "So ... you want to go home?" He asked breathlessly.

Sam ran her hands from his jaw line to place them firmly against his shoulders, a glint in her eyes as she said, "No."

He looked down at her questioningly, as she took both of his hands in hers and stepped backwards, pulling him along with her until her backside hit the mahogany wood of his desk.

"Here will do just fine," she said matter-of-factly.

Martin exhaled from deep in his chest and reached behind her to clear a spot on his desk. He lifted her up just slightly so that she sat on the edge of the desk, and settled himself between her thighs. "Are you sure?" He asked, both with concern and bemusement, and he ran his hands along her thighs, stopping over the area where the bullet scar marred her skin. In the weeks during her recovery, he had always aired on the side of caution to silently gauge what she felt comfortable with. If he had to take a few more cold showers, then so be it.

Her eyes locked with his, she wrapped her arms around his neck and he lowered his head willingly. He kissed her with need, want, and urgency, realizing how deeply and intensely he missed her when they had to be apart.

She began to tug at his jacket and tie, while he worked on the buttons of her blouse. Once their shirts had been properly discarded, he stepped back to study her in the dim light of his office. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders and framed her face, her brown eyes shone with desire, and her chest rose and fell with every panting breath she took. He leaned forward and moved his lips to kiss along her collarbone and the base of her throat. Her fingers began to unfasten his belt and applied gentle pressure as she worked the zipper of his slacks.

Now standing in front of her clad only in his boxers, he ran his hands along her back until he could unfasten the clasp of her bra. "We've got to get you caught up," he whispered throatily, and she rested her head against his chest as she giggled.

He began to stroke the swell of her breasts, her nipples hardening under his ministrations. She moaned softly and arched her back as his mouth followed the same path as his hands, and she scooted off the desk to allow him leverage to remove her slacks and underwear. She slipped her fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers before discarding those as well, sliding her nimble fingers along his erection as she freed it from the constricting cotton material.

He slipped his palms around her slender waist, lifting her once again to rest against the edge of his desk. She grabbed onto his shoulders, holding on to him tightly and wrapping her legs around him as he slid inside of her. When he knew that she was steady, he began to pump slowly in and out. His thrusts grew faster as the intensity built between them, and she tilted her body backwards to allow him to penetrate deeper. He forced his eyes to remain open and she did the same; he loved watching the expressions on Sam's face as they made love.

She began to thrust her own hips with more force, and he could tell that she was close. He took one hand from around her hips and slid it between them, reaching with his thumb and index finger to rub small circles around her swollen clit to help her along. Her inner muscles began to contract and spasm around him as her climax overtook her, and a few more quick thrusts were all he needed before he felt his own orgasm follow. He moaned her name from deep in his throat as the waves of ecstasy washed over him, holding her body tight against his, and she quivered with pleasure in his arms.

Unable to remain steady on his feet any longer, he guided her backwards to lie on top of his desk while they recovered. He tenderly wiped a few beads of sweat from her forehead, placing a soft kiss against her lips, while their ragged breathing slowly evened and returned to normal.

He gazed down to find her watching him intently, and felt his heart swell and skip a beat. He waggled his eyebrows and said, "So ... welcome to Washington."

She buried her head against his bare chest and giggled. Finally looking back into his eyes she motioned for them to stand up and begin redressing.

He had slipped on his boxers and slacks and was beginning to work on the buttons of his dress shirt when he stopped to watch her. She was fastening the buttons on her own blouse and he simply drank in the sight of her bathed in the dim light. She was so beautiful.

From somewhere above the air conditioning began to kick in, the cool air welcome as it hit his bare skin. She shivered suddenly, and he bent over to retrieve his jacket from the floor and draped it around her shoulders.

Sam reached out to squeeze his hand and tilted her head to smile at him. Her voice came in a soft whisper as she murmured, "What do you say we go home?"

Martin closed his eyes and nodded, thinking how much he liked the way that sounded.

xxxxx


	31. Chapter 30

xxxxx

_**chapter thirty**_

xxxxx

_and i don't understand  
all the things you've seen  
but i'm slipping in between  
you and your big dreams_

_it's always you in my big dreams_  
-Something Corporate, "Konstantine"

xx

_August 1, 2003  
New York City  
10:55 am_

Samantha closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, her fist hesitant before finally rapping against the door to Lisa Harris' office.

A minute passed, and no one answered. So she tapped her foot impatiently and waited, her thoughts traveling back to earlier in the week...

_He tugged at her hand and pulled her excitedly up the steps to his Georgetown home. She laughed at his boyish enthusiasm, pleased that her surprise visit had gone well thus far._

_Only as he began to unlock the front door did she take a step back, realizing that this was the first time she was seeing his home in Washington and wanting to catalog it in her memory. She admired the stone frame, his home appearing so regal and majestic that it was a strong reminder that she was just a poor girl from a trailer park in Kenosha._

_She swallowed as she noticed him watching her. She forced the best smile she could muster, hoping it came off as 'tired' and not 'inadequate,' and followed him inside._

_He gave her a lopsided grin and said, "So this is the foyer," with a roll of his eyes._

_She felt a little better, reminding herself that she knew who he was, and this was more a part of his job and less a part of him. And she hurried her steps as much as she could on her sore leg._

"Samantha," the voice of Lisa Harris called out from behind her.

"Hi, Dr. Harris," she said meekly, following the woman into her office.

Lisa took a seat at her desk, looking up with expectant eyes and said, "You're early this morning."

"Yeah," Sam exhaled and shrugged her shoulders. "We weren't busy downstairs..."

"Of course," Lisa said firmly, and Samantha remembered just why she had been so opposed to seeing the Bureau therapist when Jack had suggested it. In fact, she probably would not be complying so easily if it were not a requirement for her to resume full active field duty as soon as possible. "So," Lisa straightened her posture and leaned forward at her desk. "I hear you went to DC to follow a lead this week?"

Sam wrung her hands nervously and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible as she replied, "Yeah, we went down to interview a visiting professor at the University of Maryland. He didn't have anything for us, but he did give us the name of someone who was helpful."

Lisa nodded. "That's good, then."

Sam let out a tense breath and replied, "Yes, it is."

Lisa stared at her intently, giving her a look that said she did not believe her for a second.

xx

_Washington DC_

Martin tilted his neck, balancing the receiver of his office phone between his shoulder and his ear as he ran his hands through his hair and massaged his temples. He was really trying to concentrate on what Caro was saying about the makeshift fort that Kelsey and Bridget had constructed out of sofa cushions and the chairs from the kitchen table, but to no avail. Every time he turned his head, he saw Sam's figure moving through his office, haunting him with memories of her visit just a few nights prior.

"Marty!" Caro's voice called out urgently.

"Yeah?" He sighed into the receiver.

"Are you there, Marty?"

"Yeah, no, I'm here," he said, silently willing away his distractions. "What's up?"

"Kelsey wants to talk to you."

"Sure. Put her on."

"Uncle Marty?"

"Hey, Kels," he smiled at the sound of her voice.

"Hi!" she said excitedly. "Mommy let us build a fort in the living room!"

"So I heard," he laughed into the receiver.

"I wish you were here to see it," she sighed dramatically. "I hate that you don't live here anymore."

He frowned and replied softly, "I know, squirt. I'm sorry. I miss living in New York, too."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a beat before she asked hopefully, "You can't move your job back to New York?"

He smiled wistfully at the blind optimism of a four year old. "I'm sorry. But I will get to see you soon, okay?"

"Right! At the beach!" She giggled into the phone, and he could practically hear the way her eyes sparked when she laughed.

"Yeah, that's right."

"Hold on --" she said, "Mommy wants the phone back."

There was a pause on the line before Caroline's voice picked back up. "So, anyway ..." Caroline started.

"Yes?" He asked, grateful that Caro seemed to be in the mood to do all of the talking.

Caro began relaying a story about two of the med students on their ER rotation that month, and he found his mind wandering off again.

His eyes shifted around the room until they landed on the glint of something in the back corner of his desk, behind his keyboard. He took his free hand to inspect the small, glittering object, holding it in the palm of his hand only to discover that it was the pearl stud earring that Sam had been looking for early the previous morning as she began to gather up her things to meet Naomi at the airport...

_Martin returned from starting the coffee pot in the kitchen to find Sam still in the bathroom._

_"Have you seen my other earring?" She said distractedly, as she re-emerged and entered his bedroom._

_She was wearing his bathrobe -- which was several sizes too large -- and her wet hair was clipped loosely back out of her face. She rubbed the last streaks of her moisturizer into her face, and he wondered at how comfortably domestic the scene seemed._

_"What earring?"_

_She put one hand on her hips and said, "My pearls. I was wearing them Tuesday night when I got in, but I don't even remember taking them off..."_

_His face flushed, and he recalled how tired she had seemed when they had arrived home on Tuesday night. "I don't remember, either."_

_"Okay," she sighed, bending over and looking in her overnight bag. "I guess I'll just wear the ones I wore yesterday."_

_"Hey," he sat down on the bed and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about finding it. I'm sure it'll turn up, and as soon as I see it, I'll let you know." He paused and winked at her. "And besides, it's not like I'm never going to see you again."_

_She moved to kiss him gently and said, "True," before returning to the bathroom to finish applying her makeup and comb through her hair._

_When she had finished in the bathroom, they switched places as he shaved and brushed his teeth while she finished dressing and packing._

_Once he was completely ready for work, he collapsed on the bed and rolled over on his side, propping his head up underneath one of his arms as he watched her zip up her overnight bag. "What time is your flight?" he asked, a tinge of the sadness he was feeling in his voice._

_She dropped her bag at the foot of the bed and sat down, the bed dipping slightly. She answered, "9:00. I told Naomi I'd meet her in an hour."_

_His chest heaved and he exhaled. "I almost wish you hadn't found your guy. Then you could stay here a bit longer."_

_"Me, too," she replied. "But alas, some of us have to work."_

_"Hey now!" He held his free hand over his chest, feigning hurt. "I work!"_

_Sam flicked her wrist. "Yeah, yeah. Of course you do."_

_He grabbed her gently by the offending wrist and pulled her down until she was lying right next to him._

_He felt the playful mood of the moment shift into something far more intense, and an idea that had been planted somewhere in the back of his mind suddenly became more clear._

_"Hey, Sam?" He paused to make sure she was paying full attention before continuing, "What are your plans for Labor Day?"_

_She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't have any at the moment. It's not my holiday to be on call."_

_"Well... My family usually heads up to the Vineyard for Labor Day weekend. If you wanted to, we could join in."_

_She tensed slightly beside him and said, "What exactly would that mean?"_

_He shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to put too much pressure on her in the heat of the moment. "It's not really a big deal. Just my parents, my sisters, Aunt Bonnie, Uncle Roger, Jamie and Allison. One night we usually head to the Chatham Bars Inn, but other than that, we tend to stay on the Vineyard."_

_"Your entire family would be there?" She furrowed her eyebrows, appearing worried._

_"Yeah," he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "It's really nothing to worry about. They all like you; they just want to meet you properly."_

_She smiled at him weakly and said, "I'll think about it. Okay?"_

_He squeezed her hand affectionately and replied, "Take your time."_

xx

_New York City_

Sam sat back against the leather sofa as an eerie silence fell over Lisa's office.

"What's bothering you about this trip, Samantha?" Lisa urged finally, repeating the question she had posed five minutes earlier.

Sam sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair before explaining, "I've been seeing someone long distance, and he lives in DC."

Lisa narrowed her eyes and asked, "And this is a bad thing?"

"Well, no. Not really. It was nice to be able to surprise him when we rarely get to see each other, but at the same time, sometimes it's easier when we're apart."

"How so?"

"He comes from money, and I grew up in a trailer park in Kenosha," she replied matter-of-factly, lowering her eyes. "He says his parents want to meet me, he even invited me to spend Labor Day with his family ... I'm just not sure..."

"You're worried that his family won't approve?"

Sam massaged the back of her neck and exhaled, "Sort of."

Lisa studied her intensely from behind the desk. "The fact that he wants you to meet his family is a good sign, Samantha; it signifies commitment, not the other way around. Look at the person you've become; it shouldn't matter where you grew up."

Sam sighed once again and breathed quietly, so that Lisa could not hear, "It does when you're dating Victor Fitzgerald's only son."

xxxxx


	32. Chapter 31

xxxxx

_**chapter thirty-one**_

xxxxx

_you flutter your eyes and you toss your hair  
i have to say that it is kind of unfair  
let me tell you baby now what's in store  
you win the battle, but i'll win the war_  
-Jamie Cullum, "Get Your Way"

xx

_August 29, 2003  
12:30 pm_

The Friday before Labor Day, the afternoon sun shone brightly and carried in to light the entire floor of the Missing Persons Unit. Samantha sat at her desk and scrawled the details of her last case in her case report, enjoying the warmth that radiated in from outdoors. Across the bullpen, she saw Naomi and Jack bent over one of the tech computers, looking through old security videos to shore up one of their cases that would be going to trial shortly. Naomi cast a glance over her shoulder and met Sam's eyes, and Sam found herself once again grateful for the friendship and honest advice that Naomi was willing to give out. It was Naomi, after all, who had been spot on in calling her on her fears about the upcoming weekend with Martin and his family...

_Sam sat with Naomi in the small enclosed patio of an outdoor café, not too far away from the Federal Building. While Naomi ate her sandwich, Sam picked and nibbled at her Caesar salad. She was still reeling from her therapy session with Lisa that morning, and from her conversation with Martin the morning before._

_She found herself torn between wanting to go with him and wanting to protect herself from whatever fallout might come, and her anxiety formed a knot at the pit of her stomach._

_"Okay, enough of this." Naomi said emphatically, wiping her hands on the napkin in her lap. "The trip to DC was supposed to be good for you. What the hell happened? You've been in a daze since I met you to head to the airport."_

_Sam lifted her fork to her mouth and bit off a small piece of lettuce, chewing deliberately. "Nothing happened."_

_Naomi raised an eyebrow in disbelief, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "So much nothing happened that you were in with Dr. Harris for over an hour, instead of coming running back after thirty minutes like you usually do?"_

_Sam took a long drink from her iced tea, crunched an ice cube between her teeth, and said softly, "He wants me to come to the Vineyard with his family for Labor Day."_

_Naomi's eyes went wide as she fought back a laugh. "And this is a bad thing?" She asked incredulously._

_Shrugging her shoulders, Sam replied, "I don't know."_

_"What's there not to know about? It's not like you don't already know his family, anyway."_

_"Yes, but not as his girlfriend..." Sam paused, lifting her drink to her lips once again. "Even in the hypothetical scenario where his family approves of me, if I go, then there's really no way we can keep this a secret anymore."_

_Naomi tilted her head and fiddled with the crust of her sandwich and said, "Sam, you do realize that you can't keep this a secret forever, right? Put your FBI training to good use here and think logically."_

_Sam frowned. "Yes. But once everyone knows, there isn't anything I can do about it. He's got advisors and his office staff and his family, and I've got ..." She trailed off, picking up her fork to push one of the small cherry tomatoes off to the side of her plate._

_Naomi reached across the table to run her hand across Sam's forearm. "You've got me," she countered, "And the rest of the team. And you've got him, too. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is a new situation for both of you, and I don't think that someone who __**wants**__ to be open with the public about your relationship is someone who's going to drop you to the curb at the drop of a hat... So, what are you afraid of?"_

_Sam closed her eyes and swallowed hard before getting up the courage to whisper in response. "I don't know."_

_"Listen," Naomi said intently, leaning forward against the glass table top. "This doesn't mean that you have to move across state lines or marry him or anything yet. But I know that you like him a lot, and you're going to hate yourself forever if you don't try. Just … trust me."_

xx

Samantha double clicked on the secure internet icon, opening the window on her computer screen. She signed into her email account and smiled, finding three unread messages.

She deleted the first without opening it, a mass Bureau email with a subject line reading "Important Memo Re: Parking on Monday", and she smiled to herself, knowing that she would have no reason to be reporting in on Labor Day.

The second was from Caroline, and she glanced over that one quickly for the directions to a café close to the vicinity of St. Michael's hospital where they had planned to meet before making the drive that evening. Two weeks ago, she had received a call from Caroline that they were going out shopping to pick out dresses for the night out while they were away. She found herself thoroughly enjoying Caroline's company, seeing in her many of the same qualities she admired in Martin. In the two weeks that followed, she and Caroline had been emailing and exchanging the occasional phone call and discovering that Martin's serious, professional, Type A Personality older sister was also extremely sweet and easy to talk to once you got to know her a little.

The last message was from Martin's personal email account and the subject line read "(No Subject)". She clicked 'open' and smiled to herself as she read the brief message.

_Sam-_

_Everything is set for this weekend. Can't wait to see you later._

_M._

_PS: I still have your earring. I promise I won't forget it ;-)_

Sam shook her head and grinned, remembering the conversation when she had told him she wanted to come to Cape Cod with him for the weekend.

_Sam stepped out of the shower and immediately reached for her bathrobe. Tying the terrycloth tightly around her waist, she began to towel her hair dry, feeling markedly more calm and relaxed after her dinner with Naomi._

_As she finished wringing the last water droplets from her blonde mane, she heard the familiar beep from her speaker phone as her answering machine picked up._

_"Hey," she heard Martin's voice carry, soft and uncertain and frowned to herself. Martin never called her land line. "I, uh, I found your earring this morning..."_

_She shuffled quickly into the bedroom and picked up the phone. "Hey, Martin," she said. "Sorry, I was just getting out of the shower."_

_"Oh, hey," he replied, obviously surprised that she had answered. And instead of adding some suggestive comment about her getting out of the shower, he remained silent._

_She recognized the silence for the nervousness that it masked, and she felt her heart ache at his subtle disquiet. "How are you?" She said, trying to sound upbeat._

_"Good, good," he replied. "I, uh, did you hear? I found your earring this morning. It must have fallen out while we were ... I found it on my desk."_

_She giggled in spite of herself. "Oh."_

_"I can ship it to you if you need it right away, or if you want I could --"_

_"Martin!" She interrupted, before she was even aware of what she was saying. "Why don't you keep it for a few weeks. You can give it back to me over Labor Day."_

_This time, the silence on the other end of the line held a far more hopeful, animated quality. "So you mean ...?"_

_"Yes," she said assuredly, smiling to herself. "I do."_

xx

Sam felt a hand along her shoulder, and she turned her neck around to see Danny trying to peer at her computer screen.

She minimized the window and, with fake sweetness in her voice, said, "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh, no," He smirked and backed up until he was leaning against the conference table. She rotated her chair around in time to hear him wave his hands in her direction and say, "So you seem ... something."

She laughed at his poor attempt at subtlety, just as Vivian walked up to join them.

In her best sarcastic but motherly tone, Vivian advised, "I think the word you're looking for, Danny, is 'happy.'"

Sam grinned and winked at Vivian and teased. "Yes, it is. And yes, I am. What's it to you, Agent Suave?"

Danny scratched his cheek, suddenly looking very serious as he said, "It's a good thing, Sam."

Sam turned her chair back around and, to no one in particular, repeated. "Yes, it is."

xx

_4:45 pm_

Martin sat by the reception desk on the twelfth floor of the Federal Building, bouncing his knee up and down in anticipation. Not even the ditzy receptionist, who sat chewing gum and staring as though she recognized him but couldn't quite place him, could faze him right now.

He felt like he had literally been floating on cloud 9 since the second he had realized that she had agreed to the trip. As the date approached, he was afraid she would become tentative and unsure, rethinking her decision, but instead, it had been just the opposite. Apparently, after voicing his fears to Caroline, his older sister had taken matters into her own hands and, in a burst of spontaneity unusual for Caro, took Sam out and bonded over how much they both hated shopping for formal dresses. It gave him a thrill to know that Sam and his sister were getting on so well of their own accord.

He looked up as he heard footsteps and harsh voices carrying down the mostly empty hallway. He studied the two figures intently as they approached, recognizing one as Jack. The woman, however, he had never seen before. She was a relatively short brunette who carried herself with straight, professional posture but did not have an FBI ID Badge. Both Jack and the brunette gave off intense vibes of anger and irritation, and Martin knew immediately that this must be Maria: Jack's soon-to-be ex-wife.

"... I don't care how much you want to punish me, Maria," Jack said angrily. "But I'm their father. I should at least get to see them the weekends when I'm not working!"

"Right, Jack," Maria rolled her eyes, her arms crossed and her voice dripping with bitterness. "You're their father. How could I forget?"

Jack and Maria almost reached the end of the hallway before they noticed him, sitting alone by the entrance to the bullpen. Immediately dropping their heated conversation, Jack approached him, reaching out to shake his hand. "Senator Fitzgerald," Jack said. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Martin stood, holding out his hand to Maria. "Martin Fitzgerald," he introduced himself, trying to dissolve some of the awkwardness that hung open in the air that would likely increase exponentially when Jack realized the purpose of his visit.

"Maria Malone," Maria took his hand and gave him a tight smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Senator."

"Thank you," Martin replied, dropping his hand back to his side. "And please, it's Mart--"

"Martin!" The ladies' room door swung open, and Naomi appeared just in time to interrupt his encounter with Jack and Maria Malone.

"Hi, Naomi." He greeted her warmly, as she was the closest thing to a member of Sam's family that he assumed he would be meeting for a long time.

"Hey," she replied, walking up to the group as Jack and Maria looked on questioningly. Naomi continued in a matter-of-fact tone that told Martin that she either did not know about Sam's history with Jack, or did not care, and explained, "She's downstairs in the filing room with Danny. She should be right up." Naomi continued down the hall for about twenty feet before turning around to call over her shoulder. "And don't let her leave without saying goodbye, okay?"

He shook his head laughingly, and then realized that Jack and Maria were still standing wordlessly in front of him and the receptionist was now gaping in earnest, having put the pieces together and properly identifying him.

After a few seconds' increasingly awkward silence, Jack and Maria turned to enter the bullpen just as the doors of the elevator just down the hallway opened, and Sam and Danny stepped out.

Sam and Danny were laughing and teasing each other, and it was Danny who noticed him first, elbowing Sam in the ribs.

"Agh, Danny!" She groaned, before raising her eyes forward as Danny motioned towards where Martin stood.

Martin shuffled forward to meet her halfway. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her but, aware that they still had an audience, opted to reach out and grasp her hands instead.

"Hey," he whispered softly enough that only she could hear. "Surprise."

Her brown eyes widened as they met his, and, entwining their fingers, she asked, "You skipped out on committee?"

He shook his head, grinning, "Nope."

She bit her lip, thinking for a minute before he saw realization cross her face. She rolled her eyes, "You and Caroline!" She exclaimed indignantly. "You two are supposed to be the sweet, innocent ones."

His hands fell to her sides and grazed her hips as he quipped, "Nah, not really. Becca's just a lot louder about it, so you never suspect us. But Caro is the mastermind."

"Of course she is," Sam replied in kind. "Anyway, I'm all done here. I'm just going to go grab my things and say goodbye to Naomi."

"Sounds good," he nodded. "Oh, and before I forget --" he reached into his jacket pocket, "I believe I have something that belongs to you."

She laughed as she accepted the pearl stud he held out to her, and said, "I think I'm going to need a new back for this one."

xxxxx

A/N: I know, I know! I've been terribly behind in getting all of these updated, I've been mainly just updating at Destined. I promise I will be better about updating here as I write instead of forgetting and just adding everything all at once.


	33. Chapter 32

xxxxx

_**chapter thirty-two**_

xxxxx

_i've been watching the world pass by all around me  
i've been letting the days go by 'til you found me  
_

_baby, what can i do?  
i've been out searching for you.  
i've got a feeling all i need is a love that's true_  
-Ivy, "I've Got a Feeling"

xx

_August 30, 2003  
Martha's Vineyard  
9:00 am_

Samantha hugged the terrycloth bathrobe tight around her waist as she padded down the hallway of the Fitzgerald's Martha's Vineyard home. After arriving in the early hours of the morning, she and Martin had helped Caroline and Tim bring the girls in and had then immediately retired to bed, exhausted from the drive. Only when she awoke the next morning did she realize that she did not want Victor and Lydia's first impression of her as Martin's girlfriend to be of her in bed with him, disrespecting them in their family vacation home. So after slipping into the bathrobe, she had quickly left Martin sleeping in the bedroom and now found herself wandering the upstairs hallway of what was far more of a mansion than a vacation home.

As she took in the vast expanse of the hallway, she realized that she had no idea where the rest of Martin's family was and, not wanting her first encounter with them to be alone and in her bathrobe, she turned to go back to Martin's room. As she turned, though, a door to her left creaked open and Caroline stepped out.

"Morning, Samantha," Caroline greeted with a bright smile.

"Morning," Sam replied, grateful that it was only Caroline. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I did. I must have been out the second I hit the pillow; that drive is a bitch," she laughed quietly. "The girls were up at the crack of dawn, though; Tm took them down to the beach." Caroline paused to cover her mouth as she yawned, then asked, "So, is Marty still asleep?"

"I, uh ... yes," Sam stuttered, feeling a flush rise up on her cheeks. While she did not feel nervous around Caroline, she was extremely apprehensive about first impressions where Victor and Lydia Fitzgerald were concerned. And from the second she had woken up that morning and fully realized where she was, the inner panic that she had been fighting had been triggered and was now running rampant on her nerves.

Caroline, intuitive in sensing the obvious anxiety, reached out to grip Sam's forearm reassuringly and said, "You know, you really don't have to worry about Mom and Dad. They're very 'don't ask, don't tell' about this kind of stuff. And besides, Martin's not a teenager anymore, and we're not living in the 1950s."

Sam laughed nervously and bit her bottom lip, not entirely reassured.

"If you're really worried about it, talk to Martin. But in the meantime, I'm on the way downstairs to grab some coffee if you want to join me."

"I was just going to try to hop in the shower," Sam explained quickly, resting her hand on her hip. "I just didn't want to risk waking Martin up after the week he had."

Caroline nodded sympathetically and said, "Yeah, from what he's said, the closed hearings this week were pretty draining." After a short pause of not entirely awkward silence, she motioned her hand for Sam to follow. "Here, follow me. I'll show you one of the guest rooms."

Sam fell into step behind Martin's older sister, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head in spite of herself at the mention of _one_ of the guest rooms. She followed Caroline back down the hallway to the room just past the one she had shared with Martin before Caroline opened the door and led Sam inside.

The bedroom was decorated in whites and pale yellows, the curtains wide open with the sun shining in and the ocean visible through the window. It was more elaborate and picturesque than any hotel she had ever stayed at before, and it dawned on her just the kind of money Martin had come from. It was a fact that had always been far more on the periphery of what she instinctively knew about him, as he was never one to flaunt his family's money and it virtually never came up when they were together. But standing here, in _one_ of the guest rooms in _one_ of his family's vacation homes, it hit her far harder than it had when she was at his place in either New York or Georgetown.

Caroline excused herself, and Sam lingered at the window for a few minutes before making her way into the bathroom and turning on the shower. She inhaled deeply as she stepped inside, allowing the steam to wash over her as she mentally willed her nerves to calm down.

She reminded herself that she did want to come with Martin this weekend, and that he had wanted her here as well. She had practically _heard_ him grin through the phone when she agreed to the long weekend away.

_"Yes," she said assuredly, smiling to herself. "I do."_

_She bit her bottom lip as her smile widened and she laughed quietly at her impulsiveness, cradling her phone against her ear._

_"I ... uh ... okay," Martin said, his voice nervously endearing. She mentally called up the image of his dimpled grin as she heard his heavy breathing on the other end of the line._

_"Okay?" She asked teasingly._

_"Yeah," he said, this time more confidently. "Okay."_

_She shook her head and giggled, and she wondered at the side of Martin that was so different from the confident man she saw arguing policies and funding programs every day in the Senate. And true, Martin was seen as one of the more vibrant, articulate, candid up-and-coming politicians, but this was private and personal, and it was a side of the normally professional, serious Senator that the rest of the country did not get to see. But she did._

_"So," she said finally, "Tell me a little bit more about what Labor Day weekend at Martha's Vineyard entails..."_

_She switched the receiver from one hand to the other, and then tucked it between her ear and her shoulder as he started to reply, "Well, it's really pretty low key. We have reservations at the Chatham Bars Inn on Saturday night, and Uncle Roger will have the grill going and we'll cook out on the beach on Monday. Other than that, we don't have anything planned other than a 10:00 tee time on Sunday morning, which I'm assuming you want no part of ..." he laughed._

_"Smart man," Sam murmured into the phone, rolling her eyes playfully although he could not see._

_"I think so," he agreed cheekily._

_"Yes," she replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You would."_

_After a long pause of remarkably comfortable silence, he changed the subject and began to ask her about the follow up paperwork on their now-closed missing person case. As they traded details of their respective day's happenings, she noticed that not only had the tension and uneasiness in his voice completely dissipated, but that his tone was now light and playful and completely comfortable. She wondered at the thought that her agreeing to accompany him on his family's weekend away had made him so happy. And she considered, briefly, that perhaps this is how the progression of a real relationship was supposed to work._

xx

Stepping out of the shower and toweling herself dry five minutes later, Sam felt considerably calmer in spite of herself. She slipped the terrycloth bathrobe back on before realizing that her clothes, moisturizer, and the rest of her belongings were in her bag, back in Martin's room.

After tightening the tie around her waist, she carefully padded back out to the bedroom and peaked out into the hallway, ensuring that it was clear before stepping quickly to the next room.

She shut the door behind her, and her eyes scanned the room, paying attention to detail as she had not done either last night in her exhaustion or earlier that morning in her temporary panic. This room, too, was decorated in simple but elegant fashion, although in shades of pale blue.

Beside her, she heard the rustling of the sheets as Martin shifted in his sleep. Normally an extremely heavy sleeper, she watched as he rolled over on his side and stretched one arm out over his head.

She chuckled silently to herself as she watched him wake up, temporarily forgetting her original purpose in returning to the bedroom. Still not entirely conscious, he rubbed at his eyes and yawned before smiling at her through tired eyes.

"Good morning," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching out to pat his bed-tussled hair.

"Morning," he replied softly and coughed to clear his throat. He reached out and fingered the sleeve of her bathrobe; then motioning towards her wet hair, he said, "You didn't wait for me?"

"Well, _you_ were still asleep," she answered, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," he protested, "But I didn't even hear the shower."

She shook her head. "No, I was in the next room. I just came back because I left my bags in here..."

"Why?" He questioned, pulling her closer and kissing her gently.

"Martin --" she pulled away and explained, "This is your parents' house! We can't stay in the same room. I _am_ trying to make a good impression, am I not?"

Martin furrowed his brows and tilted his head inquisitively. "Sam," he rationalized, "You can't possibly think my parents think... They know I'm not twelve, you know."

"They still don't want us staying together under their roof," she defended, crossing her arms as she sat.

"My parents are very 'don't ask, don't tell' about it, and they are in the master bedroom downstairs. You can keep your bag in the other room if you want, but this is our weekend too, and there's no reason for you to stay in there."

He looked up at her with sincerity, and she considered his words before stuttering her reply, "I, uh, you're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he raised his eyebrows and smiled up at her incredulously. He sat up in bed and tugged her hands, pulling her forward and pressing his lips her hers. She responded easily, quickly forgetting her anxiety at the sleeping arrangements or her worried about what his parents _really_ thought of her -- until they finally pulled away for oxygen.

He tucked a loose tangle of her wet hair behind her ear and said, "Why don't we both get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast?"

She blinked and nodded meekly, swallowing the lump of fear that had lodged itself in her throat. He looked at her with expectant, hopeful eyes and she silently prayed that she was strong enough to take whatever would come, both good and bad.

xxxxx


	34. Chapter 33

xxxxx

_**chapter thirty-three**_

xxxxx

_there's a place i dream about  
where the sun never goes out  
and the sky is deep and blue  
won't you take me there with you?_  
-Ivy, "Edge of the Ocean"

xx

"Morning, everyone," Martin greeted his sisters and their husbands brightly as he entered the kitchen with Sam by his side.

They all murmured greetings in return, and Becca rose from her seat at the table to hug him.

"Now that it's almost noon, Marty... Long night?" She teased, whispering in his ear as they embraced.

Martin said nothing, but gave her his best brotherly death glare, silently willing her not to start things off on the wrong foot. He knew that inviting Sam had been a huge step for them, in a relationship that was already moving quickly due to circumstances outside of their control. And while he could take the pace in stride, he had anticipated Sam's apprehension.

Rebecca, though, was adequately aware and seemingly only wanted to tease him. She immediately smiled warmly at Sam and said, "Hi, Samantha. It's great to see you again."

Sam curled her lips in return and replied in kind, "It's good to see you too, Rebecca."

From the table, Scott cleared his throat, and Martin realized that his brother-in-law was the one member of the family Sam had yet to meet. "Sam, this is Becca's husband Scott. Scott, this is Samantha."

The two exchanged nods and smiles and polite greetings, and he busied himself at the kitchen counter, filling two empty mugs with coffee and then replacing the filter. Returning to stand beside Sam, he handed her one of the mugs and squeezed her free hand reassuringly, wanting to calm her.

"Where are the rugrats?" he asked, turning his neck to look at Caroline.

Tim laughed and began to explain, "I took them down to the beach earlier, but they ditched me in favor of Grandpa. When I left, Kelsey had your father digging a hole in the sand for God knows what reason."

Scott tilted his head and smirked as he said, "But whatever Kelsey wants, Kelsey gets. It must be so _hard_ to be the first grandchild..."

Caroline crossed her arms and arched her eyebrows, leaning forward in her seat and insisting, "You joke, but it's harder than you think!"

Rebecca said nothing, but reached across the table for a paper napkin, balling it in her fist and tossing it in Caroline's direction.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters, Samantha?" Tim asked, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in amusement. "And if you do, do they act like this?"

Martin felt Sam tense up beside him, a subtle change in her breathing as she bit her lip nervously. He appreciated Tim's attempt to make her feel like she was a part of the conversation, but unfortunately he picked a sore subject to draw her in on. Martin slid his arm around her waist, for his own benefit as well as hers. He had yet to find a way to safely broach the subject of her family in a way that would not make her instantly close up and distance herself from him, although the more time went on, the more piqued his interest became.

It was simply another layer to the extremely complex, confusing, complicated relationship they had built between them. He assumed it was mainly from the physical distance between them that they had seemed to fly past certain relationship obstacles while floundering helplessly around others. He vowed silently that the next time the opportunity presented itself, he would find a way to ask her about it, to try to discover what hurt lay buried so deep in her past that she was not on speaking terms with her family.

Sam exhaled so quietly that he almost did not hear it before saying, "I have an older sister... We're both pretty busy, and we don't see each other often." She paused for a beat, and Martin held his breath, waiting until she quipped, "But I'm pretty close to my other team members, and Danny and I could probably put most siblings to shame."

Rebecca took a sip from her mug, which Martin assumed contained some sort of herbal tea instead of the coffee that everyone else was drinking, and said, "Speaking of your team, how long have you been working in Missing Persons?"

Martin felt Sam instantly relax beside him, silently grateful that they had moved on to a subject that she was clearly more comfortable talking about. She leaned in to him just a little and, tilting her head to the side, answered, "About four years now..."

And with that, they began to trade stories from their respective jobs, chatting about nothing and everything at the same time. Martin remained mostly silent, taking in the comfortable scene in front of him and reflecting on how nice it was not to feel like the fifth wheel while with his sisters and their husbands. Although they always actively included him, in the past it had been hard not to feel like the odd man out as the only one hopelessly single. But his life had changed so much in the span of the last four and a half months, and most of those changes revolved around the woman sitting next to him. And he knew that being with Samantha, while she could be confusing and frustratingly closed-off at times, was absolutely worth the effort.

xx

_11:30 am_

Samantha sat back against the mesh netting of the beach chair and stretched her arms out in front of her, not bothering to hide her yawn as she flipped to the next page of her book and began to read.

She felt markedly more comfortable and at ease since spending over an hour just sitting and sharing light conversation with Martin's sisters that morning. And while she had not spent too much time in either of his parents' company as of yet, the image of Victor Fitzgerald helping his granddaughters dig a large hole in the sand was not one that she would be forgetting any time soon.

She heard high-pitched squeals and giggles coming from the edge of the ocean, and she peaked over the top of her book as she took in the scene in front of her. Martin held Bridget's hand as they stood by the rising tide. Bridget would let go and run forward, only taking a few quick steps into the oncoming waves before squealing and running back to Martin's side, clinging to his hand.

Martin leaned over to pick her up, hoisting her onto his hip as he laughed. "Too cold, Bee?"

"Mmhmm," Bridget mumbled into his shoulder.

Sam smiled to herself as she watched Martin wade slowly into the water, still holding Bridget in his arms as she looked up adoringly at her uncle.

"That must be a pretty interesting book you're reading there," a voice muttered from just behind her.

Sam blushed and turned her head in time to see Rebecca sit down in the sand beside her chair. "It is."

"Obviously." Rebecca said dryly with a pointed glance towards where Martin stood, now waist-deep in the ocean. "Marty's really happy that you're here this weekend."

A smile played at her lips and she fingered the edge of the next page of her book. "It's really beautiful here," she replied, reading into Rebecca's obvious dig for information.

Rebecca remained silent for a beat, then said, "Do they teach you how to evade questions at Quantico or something? Dad does the same thing all the time."

Sam shrugged her shoulders and chuckled, "That's something you'll have to take up with your father. I am not responsible for Quantico curriculum."

Rebecca traced indistinct patterns in the sand in front of her as she said, "You know, the rest of us are glad that you're here, too. It's good to see Martin with someone who makes him so happy."

Sam remained silent at this, focusing her eyes down towards the water where Martin had set Bridget down and she dashed forward to where her parents sat. Martin then met her eyes and shuffled forward towards her, leaning over her to grab the towel from behind the chair.

"I see you're getting a lot of reading done," he teased and placed a kiss against her temple, taking the book out of her hands.

She swatted his bare chest and chided him playfully, "You're dripping on me."

"Good," he smirked, drying himself off and sitting down with the towel underneath him. He looked over at Rebecca and then up at Sam and said, "So, is she giving you a hard time yet?"

"Nothing that she can't handle," Rebecca replied, matter-of-factly. "Besides, you should be more worried for your own sake. Caro and I have been saving up embarrassing stories for years, and that's not even counting the ones I'm sure Mom has."

"Oh, good," Martin quipped. "I'm so glad I can count on you."

"I do what I can," Rebecca smirked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

From behind them, Sam heard Martin's mother call out that everything was out on the table for lunch and that they should all head inside to clean off. Reluctantly everyone gathered up their towels and beach chairs and retreated up to the house, with Martin and Samantha bringing up the rear.

Sam reached out with her free hand to entwine her fingers with Martin's, walking nearly shoulder to shoulder in step with him. Leaning in to him she murmured, "So, I didn't know your mom cooked. Is this a regular thing?"

Martin shook his head and squeezed her hand. "She doesn't. She has a housekeeper at home for that; here, my best guess is she managed to put bread and lunch meat out on the counter: build your own sandwich."

Reaching the back deck and dropping the beach gear they had been holding, Martin pulled her back to one side and whispered, "See? They love you. I told you there was nothing to worry about."

Sam paused for a beat, shifting her weight as the wooden deck creaked quietly below them. "No, but apparently _you_ do."

Martin laughed and tugged gently on her elbow as he guided them back inside the house.

xxxxx


	35. Chapter 34

xxxxx

_**chapter thirty-four**_

xxxxx

_i've been thinking  
i've been thinking, i've been thinking too much  
i just want to live now for a little while  
and cast my dreams to the wind_  
-Vonda Shepard, "Maryland"

xx

_3:00 pm_

Sam and Martin lay on the sofa in the basement that afternoon, at least half-pretending to watch a movie. Martin's aunt, uncle, and cousins had arrived immediately after lunch, and while the rest of the family dispersed to various outdoor activities, she and Martin had opted to stay inside and rest. Her leg would still occasionally give her trouble, a lingering soreness that had not yet worn off, and neither she nor Martin wanted to be overtired at dinner that evening.

And so Sam found herself half paying attention to _'My Fair Lady'_ and half allowing her mind to wander aimlessly over the events of the morning. From Martin insisting that his parents would not judge or likely even notice if they stayed in the same room to trading work stories with Martin's sisters and their husbands, she was still processing how easily she felt comfortable with the Fitzgerald's and how genuinely they seemed to welcome her to their family home. She found herself looking forward to the stories Rebecca had promised her about Martin as a little boy just as much as she was looking forward to the dinner that evening.

As Alfred P. Doolittle began to sing on the television screen, though, she felt a familiar lump rise up in her throat at the memory of her own father. She had been so young when he had left and had so few solid memories that he did not seem like a man who had ever been a tangible part of her life, and yet she still felt his abandonment acutely on the rare occasions that she let her guard down.

And being around Martin's family, so close in spite of their differences, made her heart ache deep in her chest. She regretted her own youthful stubbornness that contributed in large part to the break with her mother and sister, although she could not see it at the time.

She bit her lip nervously as the characters on screen continued to sing, wondering what Martin's family would think when they realized just how different she really was from the type of woman they had likely envisioned for their only son. And wondering, more importantly, what he would think.

He knew, of course, that her only family to speak of consisted of her mother and her sister, and that she had grown up in Kenosha, far less privileged than he had. But she suspected that he did not realize the full extent of how different their backgrounds were. While he had attended the top tier private schools, took piano lessons, and went to cotillion, she had gone to public school in her sister's hand-me-down clothes and played flashlight tag with the other children in the trailer park whose parents weren't home from their second jobs yet.

The bad memories from her childhood far outweighed the good ones, and she tended to dwell on the bad and ignore the good. But it had not been all bad, and she was suddenly reminded of a time when she and her mother and sister had been happy together, just the three of them...

_"Samantha!" Betsy Spade touched her daughter's face and nudged her gently to wake her. "Samantha, wake up!"_

_Samantha shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut tight, exhausted. Her mother rubbed her back gently and kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear. "Wake up, baby girl. Happy birthday!"_

_Yawning and moaning quietly, Samantha lifted her head up off of the pillow, her small hands rubbing her eyes. "I'm not a baby anymore!" She insisted, offended._

_"Of course not," Betsy soothed, the bed dipping as she sat down. "But you will always be my baby, no matter how old you get. And as I remember, today is a pretty big day..."_

_Samantha nodded, still rubbing at her eyes. Today was her sixth birthday, and she had been looking forward to it for longer than she could remember. Things at home had not been great since Dad had left, with her mother having to pick up a second job at Wal Mart just to make ends meet. But Betsy had been working extra overtime at the diner for the past month so that she could have the day off to spend with her two young daughters._

_Giving Samantha a gentle pat on the leg, her mother said, "Lindsey's already up and dressed. Why don't you throw some clothes on and come on out to breakfast. Okay?"_

_Through sleepy eyes, Samantha nodded in agreement. Although she was tired, she did not want to miss any part of today. She had been looking forward to spending time with her mom for what seemed like an eternity!_

_Sam walked over to the dresser that, like everything else in the room, she shared with Lindsey. After pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a pink t shirt, she padded out into the open area of the trailer that served as both kitchen and den and found her mother and sister waiting for her with breakfast already at the table._

_"Morning, Sam!" Lindsey's green eyes shone as she greeted Sam brightly. "Happy Birthday!"_

_"Thanks, Linds," Sam replied, pulling her chair out from under the table and hoisting herself up to sit on it._

_That was when she saw that her mother made blueberry muffins from scratch, the muffin sitting out in front of her topped with a candle in the shape of the number six. Her eyes went wide and her mouth watered; her mother never had time to make muffins from scratch anymore._

_Her mother bent over to brush her bangs back out of her eyes, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "Happy Birthday, sweetheart."_

_  
"Thank you, Mommy," she replied, leaning forward to pick up her muffin._

_Betsy laughed, reaching out to stop her. "Hold on there, Sam. We've got to light the candle first!"_

_"Oh," she bit her lip, embarrassed._

_Betsy pulled out a match and struck it against the side of the box to light it, bringing the flame down to the candle, while Lindsey hopped up and ran over to the wall to flip the light switch. The only light in the room was the small flickering flame that glowed in front of her, shining in her eyes as her mother and sister began to sing._

_'Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Sammy! Happy birthday to you ...!'_

_Her mother stood behind her, holding her hair back as she leaned forward to blow out the candle._

_"Don't forget to make a wish!" Lindsey reminded her._

_Sam giggled and thought for a moment, contemplating her wish. But glancing quickly around the room at her mother and her sister, she decided that right then, she had everything she could ever want._

_So she smiled, took a deep breath, and with one short, quick puff of air, extinguished the small flame._

xx

Shaking the memory with regret, she propped her head up on her elbow and rotated her neck slowly, working out the kinks. The movie was still playing in the background, but neither she nor Martin was paying attention, as she noticed the subtle change in his breathing as he fell asleep. Knowing how tiring and stressful his week had been with the internal investigation his Senate Committee had been conducting, she lifted his arm from around her waist and rose from the sofa. He shifted slightly in her absence, releasing a small grunt as she patted his arm affectionately and placed a spare throw pillow in the place where she had been. Chuckling to herself, she picked up the remote and clicked the television off, the screen going blank and leaving the room silent except for Martin's even breathing.

She tiptoed carefully up the stairs and made her way into the kitchen to get a glass of water. But she was not paying attention to her surroundings, and when she turned away from the refrigerator, glass in hand, she found herself face to face with Martin's father.

Victor sat at the kitchen table, coffee mug in one hand and the New York Times in the other. He looked over the top of the newspaper when he heard her rustling at the refrigerator, folding his current page over and putting the paper down on the table. "Hi, Samantha," he greeted.

Unable to read his tone of voice, she found herself wishing on many levels that she had remained downstairs in Martin's arms. She nodded tensely in greeting, "Sir."

Victor motioned to the chair across from him and, his tone all professionalism, said, "Please, you're here with Martin. You can call me Victor."

She took a seat, biting her lip to avoid balking at this extremely friendly but unexpected gesture on Victor's behalf.

Victor ran his hand along the fold of the newspaper twice, seemingly unaware of her unease, and continued. "Are you enjoying your time here thus far?"

"Everything has been wonderful, thank you." She twisted her hands nervously under the table, but forced a smile that she could only hope was convincing.

Victor paused for a beat, and his expression changed, suddenly appearing far more like Martin's father and less like her boss. "You know," he said finally, "I'm sure Martin hasn't told you anything about me that would contradict your previous impressions. But his mother and I ... we always wanted what was best for him."

"Martin loves you," she replied. If Martin did not love his father as much as he did, she knew he would not care so much about garnering Victor's approval.

"Still, though, I've never quite been the father he wanted me to be," Victor said wistfully and lowered his eyes at the table. "I don't give him enough credit ... at times. I have to remind myself that he's grown up now, and he is fully capable of making the right decisions on his own." Pausing, he raised his gaze once again to look her in the eyes. "I trust his judgment, though. More than I think he knows."

Samantha folded her hands in her lap and shifted her weight, leaning forward pensively. "You should tell him that."

xx

_3:45 pm_

The first thing Martin noticed when he woke up was Sam's absence, the throw pillow a poor substitute for her warm body. As he yawned and stretched his arms out, the next thing he noticed was that the television had been turned off. He glanced at his watch and took note of the time, assuming that Sam had made her way upstairs to start getting ready for dinner as it would be nearly a two hour trip between the ferry to the main Cape and the drive in from Hyannis to Chatham.

He took the steps two at a time and, when he reached the top, he furrowed his brows in confusion at the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. Confusion turned quickly to a mixture of shock and bemusement as he began to make out the actual conversation. He stood just to the right of the kitchen door, peering in as he watched Sam and his father going over the finer points of one of Sam's team's recent investigations.

Taking a deep breath, he shuffled forward and cleared his throat. "Hey," he said, taking the empty seat to Sam's left and reaching out to grab her hand. "How is everything going up here?"

His father gave a nod and a small smile. "Everything is great, Martin."

Squeezing his hand, Sam tilted her head towards him, her face visibly relaxed and her posture calm as she said, "Yeah, everything is going just fine."

xxxxx


	36. Chapter 35

xxxxx

_**chapter thirty-five**_

xxxxx

_take my hand in the meantime  
and let's walk into the sunshine  
everybody got something they want to sing about, laugh about, cry about  
it's true - for me, it's you_  
-Train, "For Me, It's You"

xx

_Chatham, Massachusetts  
7:15 pm_

Martin sat back in his chair and reached his hand under the table to find Sam's own hands folded in her lap. Linking their hands together, hidden by the crisp white tablecloth, she finally tore her eyes away from their view of the Atlantic Ocean and turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, and the expression on her face was subdued and quiet, but seemingly calm.

"The view here is amazing," she whispered quietly, leaning her body in closer to his as her eyes drifted back out to the view through the window.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, not moving his gaze from her as he studied her intently. She was quietly nervous but not overly on-edge, and she had handled herself with a natural grace and poise that made his heart swell with pride. He had been afraid that, once they arrived and there was no turning back, she would tense up and retreat back within herself, but she had responded instead with a level of composure that could not be taught. He knew the whispers and second glances that had followed them from the second they hit the door must be getting to her, but he would never be able to tell from just looking at her.

He was used to getting second glances at this point, most people initially looking right past him and then doing a double take when their brain makes the connection. But tonight, he noticed that he was not getting nearly as many second glances as Sam was. And while he was sure that part of it was that they were arriving together and she was very clearly _with_ him, part of it was simply _her_. He was going to have to convince her to dress up more often because, while she was always beautiful, tonight she was simply breathtaking. Her pale blue dress hung gently around her curves, accentuating her slender figure, while the hem swished out just slightly with each step as she walked. Her long blonde hair was curled and fell elegantly over her bare shoulders, and a string of pearls complemented her elegant neckline. The pearls she wore in her ears boasted a brand new backing that only they knew about, and each time he caught a glimpse of the pearl studs he felt a flush rise in his body and a slight stirring in his groin at the memory of the last time she had worn them.

Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Samantha, he glanced around the table at the rest of his family: Rebecca and Scott sat to his right, deep in conversation with his mother about different camera lenses; Jamie, Ron, Allison, and Caroline were chatting aimlessly about the last movie they had seen; Tim and Roger were discussing the Giants' chances this year; and his father sat across from them, silent but not his usual stoic self. Bonnie, feeling somewhat under the weather after the long drive, had opted instead to stay home with the three girls and the babysitter. She did seem a little tired, but said she figured she would be feeling better tomorrow.

His father gave him a small smile from across the table, and Martin found himself pleasantly surprised with his father's behavior for the second time that day.

xx

_"Yeah, everything is going just fine." Sam said, and Martin had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from allowing his confusion to show on his face. Sam seemed comfortable and relaxed, and his father likewise. She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, smiled reassuringly, and asked, "How was your nap?"_

_"It was good," he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "Thank you for letting me sleep."_

_"You're welcome," she replied, setting her palms on the edge of the table and pushing herself so that she was standing. "I think I'm going to go rest for a little while longer before I have to start getting ready."_

_Martin's eyes lingered on her retreating figure as she walked out through the door before he finally turned his head back toward his father. He took a deep breath and ran his hand along his chin. "So, you two seem to be getting along," he said, his voice skeptical._

_"She seems great, son." Victor said, matter-of-factly. "Things are going well for the two of you?"_

_"Yeah, Dad," he replied, smiling to himself. "They are."_

_"That's good to hear. She is welcome here anytime; I'm glad she could come this weekend and we could all get to know her better." Victor brought his arms up to rest on the tabletop, "I know I don't always give you the impression that I trust your judgment, but you have done quite well for yourself on your own. I'm proud of you, Martin."_

_Speechless, Martin could only nod._

xx

_8:30 pm_

Sam curled her lips around her glass as she sipped her wine slowly, allowing herself to lean back against her chair as the waitress began to clear the dinner plates and began to ask about dessert. She noticed that the waitress' gaze lingered for a few moments over where Martin's hand hung down to rest on her thigh, and willed herself not to flinch at the attention.

This was an instance where her FBI training served as more of a hindrance than a help, as her acute awareness of her surroundings was heightened by her own nerves. She felt far better after spending the day with the entire Fitzgerald family, and even carrying on a pleasant conversation with Martin's father, but once they had pulled up at the entrance of the hotel that evening, she felt her hands go numb and her heart beat faster. It took a few deep breaths and a lot of mental coaching, but she managed to swallow the large lump that rose in her throat and, walking in gripping Martin's hand tighter than she might normally allow herself, hoped she had not seemed overly uneasy.

Her eyes scanned the dining room once more as the sun began to set over the Atlantic Ocean; the main dining room in the Chatham Bars Inn exuded classical elegance, with crisp white tablecloths and intricately fashioned crystal centerpieces and white flowers. Understated, but sophisticated. A live band was set in one corner of the dining room, playing classic ballads from the Big Band Era that carried across a large dance floor where many couples were spinning happily together.

Leaning into Martin's shoulder, she whispered in his ear, "You never said anything about 'dancing' when you told me about this dinner..."

Martin waggled his eyebrows playfully, grinning as he said, "You want to take a spin?"

She bit her lip thoughtfully. "I can't dance, at all," she objected, but her protest fell flat even as the words left her mouth, as she linked her hand in his and followed his lead to the dance floor. She knew how important it was for him that she was here with him, and for the first time in a romantic relationship, she was making a conscious decision to do something just because it made him happy, without worrying about her own complications.

As he tugged her gently out onto the dance floor and swept her close in his arms, he whispered softly in her ear. "It's easy; I'll teach you." And his words sent pleasant shivers down the length of her spine.

She settled easily in alongside him as they began to dance, and she wondered at how calm and reassuring he had been throughout the course of the weekend.

xx

_Sam unplugged her curling iron, careful not to touch the scalding metal as she set the instrument down back down on the countertop by the bathroom sink. She put the finishing touches on her makeup before taking a few steps back and studying her appearance in the mirror. She smiled impishly to herself as she thought of Martin's reaction when he saw her; he had mentioned on a few occasions that she should wear skirts more often._

_Just as she came to the conclusion that her appearance was satisfactory, she heard a few quick knocks on the wooden door of the bathroom._

_"Hey, Sam..." Martin's muffled voice carried through. "You okay in there? You've been in there for quite awhile..."_

_Chuckling silently to herself, she opened the bathroom door and stepped back out into the bedroom. Martin had his back to her, and she cleared her throat, causing him to turn around. His hands immediately dropped from the buttons of his shirt that he had been working on, his mouth open and his eyes wide as he grinned broadly. Speechless for a few minutes, he finally managed a "Wow" but nothing more._

_  
She lifted her arms to his shirt, slowly fastening each button until she reached the notch at the top of his breastbone. She began to finger his tie, lifting the silk material through her fingertips and tugging gently on the knot as she finished. She ran her hands along his chest, and he finally brought his hands to rest on her hips, his thumbs making slow circles against her lower abdomen._

_"Martin ..." she warned half-heartedly, not really want him to stop. "We have to leave in --" she checked her watch, "ten minutes, and I am not about to be late. Your father seems to like me enough thus far, and I'm not about to ruin that."_

_Flicking his wrist as though to dismiss her, he pressed a gentle kiss against her lips, finally finding his voice again as he said, "You look amazing, Sam."_

_Her eyes darted to one side and ran her index finger along her lip where he had just kissed her, her nerves rising up suddenly._

_"Sam --" he said, obviously noting the sudden tension that coursed through her body. "It's going to be alright, you know. You don't have anything to be afraid of. Just ... trust me."_

_He smiled at her hopefully, and she had no choice but to smile back. His optimistic confidence was infectious, and it worked alongside her own self-assurance, which had been raised by the surprisingly normal conversation she held with his father just an hour and a half earlier. "I do," she replied. "It's just ... this is new for me. I've never really done this before."_

_He took her hands in his, linking their fingers together and massaging her wrists in the same slow, sensual circles he had inflicted on her abdomen just minutes earlier. But instead of being charged and sexy, it was sweet and reassuring. He kissed her cheek and said, "Well, that makes two of us."_

xx

The band switched 1940's jazz ballads as Martin began to spin her around on the dance floor, causing her dress to swish outward as she twirled in his arms. She giggled euphorically, feeling more like a little girl playing dress up than like Samantha Spade, and Martin grinned broadly as his left hand found its way back to where it rested on her hip, drawing her back in.

Over his shoulder, she caught sight of Martin's parents dancing about twenty feet away. She smiled to herself as she saw Lydia whisper something to her husband and Victor laugh easily; she could not remember a time when she had ever seen her own parents together like that: content just to be together. She could barely remember a time when they had not been fighting.

Shaking thoughts of her parents from her mind, Martin began to twirl her out once more, and as she spun, she realized that she, too, was content to just be here in this moment with Martin. It was a new feeling that excited and confused her all at once, but she enjoyed the pleasant tingling sensation that coursed through her body.

And instead of worrying as to what these new feelings meant, she took the hand resting on Martin's shoulder and began to run her fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. She drew him closer to her and leaned forward to kiss him, and suddenly it did not matter to her if the whole world was watching.

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	37. Chapter 36

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: Children look away. Smut to follow.

xxxxx

_**chapter thirty six**_

xxxxx

_she's a candle burning in my room  
yeah i'm like the needle, needle and spoon  
over the counter with a shotgun  
pretty soon everybody got one  
and the fever when i'm beside her  
desire, desire_  
-U2, "Desire"

xx

_August 31, 2003  
Martha's Vineyard  
12:10 am_

The entire family lingered in the foyer as they said their goodnights, but Martin's thoughts were anywhere but with the rest of his family. From the moment Samantha had left the bathroom that afternoon in that dress, he had wanted nothing more than to devour her. His desire had only been fueled when they had danced together that evening, the ability to hold her and kiss her in public exciting a primitive instinct to show off the fact that he was _with_ her. To show off the fact that he was with someone who was everything she was: intelligent, funny, beautiful, sexy. Someone who made his heart beat just a little faster even when they had to be apart and who was, in his mind, quickly becoming a permanent fixture in his life.

Somehow, he managed to wish the rest his family a good night without embarrassing himself or Sam and led her up the seemingly interminable stairwell and down the hallway to his bedroom. The door finally shut behind them, and he stood behind her, pulling her snugly against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist and nipped at her earlobe. "I've been waiting all night to get you alone," he whispered throatily.

She gave a soft laugh, which turned into a hushed moan as he spun her around in his arms and began to kiss the sensitive spot where her collarbone met her throat. He began to run his arms along her soft, smooth skin from the nape of her neck, her shoulders, her back, until they finally came to rest on the gentle curve of her ass. "Mmmm, Martin --" she said huskily, "we have to be --"

"Quiet. I know," he finished for her, cutting her off as he moved from her neck to kiss her full on the lips. Their tongues mingled and tasted furiously as she began to work his suit jacket off of his shoulders and loosen his tie. She made quick work of his dress shirt, tugging the shirttails from his slacks and hastening to unfasten all of the buttons. When she began to yank at his undershirt, he laughed against her lips. Apparently he was not the only one who was eager.

Pulling away rather reluctantly, he turned her around and found, with only minimal difficultly, the hidden zipper on the back of her dress. He pulled down on the zipper and slowly revealed the smooth skin of her back, pressing gentle kisses along the nape of her neck. He helped her out of the dress while she kicked off her heels, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck, he traced indistinct patterns across her stomach, eliciting a soft moan when he cupped her breasts through the lace of her bra. Finally unable to stand it any longer, he tugged his undershirt over his head and pulled her snug against him, enjoying the sensation of skin on skin.

He kicked his shoes off and toed his socks away, and began to place languid kisses along her collarbone as his hands massaged her back. She removed his belt and began to work on the button of his slacks at a slow, antagonizing pace, a sly grin against her lips signaling that she knew just how much the work of her normally nimble fingers was tormenting him. After what seemed like nearly an eternity, his pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them, releasing a pleasurable groan as one of her hands found its way inside his boxers to give him a gentle squeeze.

His hardness pressed up against her as he lifted her carefully to the bed, kissing her again and again as they fell down against the soft, plush mattress. He wanted this kiss to tell her everything he couldn't quite find the words for, for all the words she might not be ready to hear yet - but that he wanted her to know anyway. He traced his hands along her spine, stopping as he reached the clasp of her bra to release it, and pinning her down on the mattress, his hands immediately began to knead the tender, newly-exposed flesh. He kissed from her chin along her throat and down to her chest, until he reached the valley between her breasts, and finally brought his mouth around one of her erect pink nipples, nipping and sucking. He cupped the other breast in his hands, thumb brushing over the taut bud, and she arched her back and writhed beneath him with want.

The hushed, desperate sounds coming from her lips were music to his ears, and he left her breasts to trail languid kisses down from her rib cage to her abdomen. He held her hips still with one hand and ran a light touch up her inner thighs with the other. He stroked her through her panties, feeling a thrill run through his body at the warm wetness he found there. He dragged her panties slowly down her legs, spreading them as he replaced his hand with his mouth. He kissed her at the apex of her thighs, watching her face intently as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. He kissed, nibbled and tongued as he spread her lips, and she panted and moaned softly above him.

When she let go and her orgasm overtook her, he shifted himself so that he hovered over her once again and held her close as she went limp in his arms. He trailed soft, wet kisses along her shoulders, throat, face, and temple as her ragged breathing eventually slowed and she came down from her high. She opened her beautiful brown eyes, pupils dilated and dark with desire. He grinned mischievously at her.

Smirking back, she pushed forcefully at his shoulder, rolling them over so that she was straddling him, her hips grinding against his. He bucked his hips to meet her, and she slithered suggestively down his body. Her fingers hooked under the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down and off before discarding them to some unimportant location on the floor. She took hold of his shaft as she made her way back up toward him, running nimble fingers from root to tip and back again. He hardened even further at her touch and, not wanting to wait any longer, took hold of her elbows and gently tugged her away before she could lower her mouth onto him. "Just want you," he murmured, pulling her down to kiss her full on the lips.

She linked her fingers in his and gave him a winning smile through dark, unfocused eyes. "You've got me," she whispered back, nibbling on his earlobe. She had a devilish glint in her eyes as she pushed his shoulders back and worked her hips against his. He released a guttural moan when she lowered herself onto him, bucking his hips up to meet her as he felt the comfortable thrill of being connected to Sam in this way. He fondled her breasts as she moved on top of him and silently thought that there could not be a sight more beautiful than that of the look on Sam's face as they made love. His skin burned at the lightest of her touches, leaving a fire trail in her wake as she ran her hands along his chest, shoulders, and back. It stung only slightly as she dug her nails into him, but the subtle marks would be welcome reminders of her presence in the coming days when they were apart once again.

He kissed her long and hard and sucked on her lower lip, his hips buckling as they moved together. She lowered herself again and he filled her to the hilt as they found their release. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear as he spilled himself deep inside her and her inner walls clenched around him again and again. She collapsed on top of him, her face flushed and sweaty and her heart racing in time with his.

They lay together in post-coital bliss, both happily satiated, and the only sounds that of their heavy, panting breaths as they slowly returned to earth. The comfortable silence fell in around them as she settled herself against his side, her body snug against his as her head rested on his shoulder. He placed a gentle kiss against her temple as she giggled into his shoulder. "Yes?" he raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Oh, nothing," she smirked. "Just thinking that your father wouldn't have been nearly as nice to me earlier if he had known I was bringing you up here to corrupt you."

He laughed and ran his hand along her bare side, pulling her impossibly closer to him. "Hey, Sam," he said finally, his voice soft and suddenly serious. She tilted her head to look at him. "Thank you for coming tonight."

Her brown eyes wide, she bit her lip thoughtfully as she said, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

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	38. Chapter 37

xxxxx

_**chapter thirty seven**_

xxxxx

_under the weight of your wings  
should ever we meet on your side of your stereo  
i will pretend i know not of your thoughts  
and even the way that they mirror my own  
i'll take you away in the way  
that you take me and go where i go_  
-Anna Nalick, "In My Head"

xx

_8:30 am_

The sun seeped through the curtains and across the bed that next morning, and Martin rubbed at his eyes with his free hand as he awoke. He smiled as he felt Sam nestled up against him, asleep with her head still resting on his shoulder. He breathed deeply and inhaled the welcoming scent of her shampoo before finally maneuvering his arm out from underneath her. She shifted in her sleep before settling back down into the pillows, and he leaned over the bed to tenderly brush her sleep-tousled hair out of her face.

He shuffled into the bathroom quietly, shutting the door behind him before he turned the shower on and stepped inside. As the warm water streamed over him, he wondered at all of the changes in his life over the past two years and, more importantly, in the last four and a half months. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he was sitting in his office that Thursday night, exasperated as he spoke on the phone with his father about Delia Rivers' memorial service. That night, the future seemed to span out before him as an endless cycle: work, general political schmoozing, and a social date here or there but nothing serious. But now his future took a more distinct shape every time he considered it, wide and bright and full of possibilities in a way that it had not been before. And though he knew there were numerous obstacles that they had yet to overcome, he also knew that he did not want to imagine the rest of his life without her in it. Maybe it was too fast and maybe it was completely crazy, but he had done enough casual dating in the last couple of years to know that this was not something he could easily give up.

He exited the shower and dressed quietly, not wanting to wake her. Back in the bedroom, he chuckled to himself as he noticed that she had shifted once again in his absence and was now lying amongst tangled linens in the very middle of the queen sized bed. The mattress dipped below him as he sat, resting his hand on her bare shoulder as he leaned forward to kiss her temple gently.

"Good morning, Sam," he whispered softly, running his thumb along her cheek before standing up straight beside the bed.

He was still smiling when he shut the bedroom door behind him.

xx

_11:15 am_

Sam pushed her hair behind her ears as she padded quickly down the carpeted hallway and towards the stairs. She had slept longer than she had planned on although, to be fair, last night had been a simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting evening.

She rounded the foot of the stairs, one hand still on the banister, and stopped momentarily to take in the scene she could just make out straight down the hallway and in the sunroom. Caroline, Rebecca, Jamie, and Allison sat together on the sofas, chatting animatedly amongst themselves, while Kelsey and Bridget played quietly on the floor beside them. It amazed her how close the entire family seemed to thrive on being together, their differences making them closer instead of tearing them apart.

It was Jamie who eventually noticed her, shifting baby Ava from one shoulder to the other as she motioned for Sam to come and join them.

"Morning, Samantha," Allison greeted, smiling. "We were wondering when we'd see you."

"Allison!" Rebecca said sharply. "Not another word out of you. Marty is my baby brother, and I was planning on keeping it that way. No more questions; Caro and I don't want to hear about it!"

Sam chewed on her lower lip and blushed furiously, giving Caroline a helpless look and fighting the urge to laugh along with the rest of them. Caroline smiled reassuringly and patted the sofa cushion beside her, motioning for Sam to sit down. "Ignore them," Caroline said. "They missed the etiquette class on how to play nice with guests."

Jamie held her free hand up and said firmly, "Anyway, as Ally was saying, we've been waiting for you."

Rebecca held her hands on her hips as she sat, explaining matter-of-factly, "We were beginning to think Martin would never bring a girl home to meet the family... We figure that if you like him enough to put up with meeting our parents, that must mean that you're crazy, or that you really like Martin."

Laughing, Sam replied, "I've already met both of your parents before."

"Oh, don't spoil our fun Samantha," Rebecca quipped. "We've been waiting for years to share embarrassing old family stories with the woman in Marty's life. Work with us here."

"I'm not arguing," Sam said, raising her eyebrows and leaning back into the sofa cushions, allowing herself to relax. She bit her bottom lip, fighting a smile and not wanting to admit how much she had been looking forward to hearing stories about Martin as a little boy.

Beside her, Caroline cracked a smile and said, "I've got one." All the women turned their attention to Caroline as she turned to Rebecca knowingly and continued, "Remember his fifth birthday party...?"

xx

_It was a bright and sunny afternoon in mid June when the Tolands held Martin's fifth birthday party. His birthday was a week away, but Victor Fitzgerald's caseload being what it was, he was not expecting to get away from performance reviews at the office for long enough to make it up for the actual date._

_Bonnie had done up the entire backyard, from the streamers and balloons on the porch to the slip-n-slide on the lawn. She had invited all of the friends Martin had made playing at the local park and the neighborhood pool, and had even made a special cake for the party: chocolate cake, decorated up like a baseball stadium._

_The children all ran around, laughing and screaming happily in the backyard, and Victor had even thrown a football back and forth with Martin for a little while. Roger cooked hotdogs and hamburgers on the grill for lunch, and everyone ate happily together before it was time to open presents. They saved all of the big family gifts for later, but allowed him to open the smaller gifts from his friends._

_The gifts unwrapped and proper thanks exchanged, Bonnie set the cake in front of Martin, who sat at the head of the long table outside on the porch. The cake was a true masterpiece, appearing professionally done instead of homemade, and Bonnie had placed a single candle in the white frosting of the bases at each corner of the diamond, putting the final candle in the center on the pitcher's mound. She patted her nephew's hair, still damp from the slip-n-slide, and kissed his temple as she said "Happy Birthday, Marty!"_

_And it was only then that Martin truly realized what was about to happen._

_As his father pulled out a match and started to light the candles, he furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Don't sing!" he called out. "Stop! Don't sing!"_

_But his family and friends did not hear him, and started singing anyway._

_Frowning, he took a deep breath and blew out the candles in the middle of the song. His small chest heaved and he put his hands decisively on his hips, standing up on his chair. "I said don't sing!" He insisted._

_"Why not, Marty?" Eleven year old Caroline tilted her head inquisitively from the other end of the table, trying not to laugh._

_"You can't sing yet!" He said indignantly, frustrated that no one else saw his logic. "It's __**not**__ my real birthday."_

_He leaned over the table and dislodged each one of the candles, throwing them emphatically down on the table. And that was the end of that._

xx

"... he was so _upset_," Caroline finished, shaking her head as she laughed.

Rebecca shifted her weight and leaned forward, continuing, "We asked him every day that week if we could sing to him then, and every day he would say 'no.'" She paused, sharing a knowing look with her cousins. "Then his birthday came, and we didn't say anything about it. It took him five hours to break down, but he finally came to Aunt Bonnie with candles and told us it was okay for us to sing then." Rebecca paused, looking thoughtful for a few moments before adding, "That was right before Dad got promoted to AD, I think."

The expressions on Martin's sisters' faces became somber, and Caroline turned to look at Samantha as she explained, "Dad was around a lot more when we were little. But by the time Martin was born, he was SAC and on the fast track in the Bureau.

Silence fell in the room, weighted and impassive, before Allison finally commented off-handedly, "He's been a lot better since you had the girls, Caro."

At this, Bridget lifted her small body up from the floor and scampered over to her mother, tiny arms clutching at Caroline's legs. Caroline laughed and ruffled her young daughter's hair, lifting the toddler into her lap. "Yeah," she smiled. "He has." Bridget kissed her mother on the cheek, and Caroline tickled her, small giggles echoing around the room.

Sam could not tear her eyes away from mother and daughter as they interacted, feeling a gentle tug at her heart that she did not quite recognize. When Caroline looked up and smirked knowingly, Sam felt her cheeks flush.

"So, Samantha," Allison said, her smile wide as she clasped her hands together. "What do _you_ want to know about Marty when he was younger?"

All eyes turned expectantly towards her as she chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. She finally raised an eyebrow suggestively and said, "Tell me about his first girlfriend..."

xx

_3:50 pm_

"Hey, Aunt Bonnie," Martin greeted his aunt as he opened the back door onto the deck. "Are you feeling better today?"

Bonnie closed the book she had been holding and turned her upper body, craning her neck as she smiled at her nephew. "Yeah, better. I'm still a little tired, but I guess that's what happens when you get old..."

Martin shook his head and smiled, taking the seat next to her. "You are far from old," he countered. "And don't go forgetting that anytime soon."

"Dually noted," she replied with a subdued laugh, still obviously not feeling quite herself but not wanting to say otherwise. After a beat, her tone changed and her smile became more genuine. "If you're looking for Samantha," she said, "She went off on a jog. Said something about needing to keep up with her physical therapy."

"Yeah, she's really done well with all of it." His expression was restrained and emotionless as he fought the image of Samantha the way she had looked as she was rolled into the emergency room after she had been shot.

Bonnie swept her hand reassuringly along Martin's forearm, quickly changing the subject. "So, how was the Country Club? You, Tim, and your father were there for a long time."

"It was fine," he said with a chuckle. "We ran into Congressman Kendrick, and Dad had to stop and say hello."

"Lovely," Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Although on the whole, my ridiculous brother has behaved himself rather well this weekend."

Martin worked his tongue in his cheek and said, "Don't let him hear you call him 'ridiculous' - no matter how true it is."

"I will call him as I see it," she said off-handedly. "It's my prerogative as his sister." She paused, giving him a pointed, serious look as she continued, "You know, Samantha must be pretty special if she's willing to put up with your parents just to spend the weekend with you."

He darted his eyes to the side quickly, almost nervously, not wanting to seem overly excited as he replied, "Yeah, she's pretty great."

"She is." Bonnie reached out, pulling his chin upward with her index finger and smiling brightly. "Just a word of advice, though. In the future, you may not want to leave her alone with your sisters for prolonged periods of time."

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." Bonnie said with a casual wave of her hands. "But when I came downstairs earlier, I heard them telling her about Kathleen Bannister."

It took a second before his aunt's words sunk in, and he ran his hand along his forehead and felt his cheeks go red.

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	39. Chapter 38

xxxxx

_**chapter thirty-eight**_

xxxxx

_angels, smiling on my happiness  
danger, 'cause this scene is still a mess  
(we can all be blessed)_

_don't stop just yet  
we've got the world looking in  
our window_  
-Morcheba, "World Looking In"

xx

_September 1, 2003  
New York City  
10:00 pm_

The lid of the washing machine closed with a loud thud, and Sam took a step back to study it intently before turning the dials to the proper setting and releasing the 'start' button. The machine whirred to life as she walked back down the hall and to the elevator, depressing the call button with her index finger and tapping her right foot nervously as she waited for the car to descend to the basement level.

As the elevator doors slid open in front of her, she offered a casual greeting to the nameless neighbor departing the car whom she recognized but did not know personally. Just as the doors shut behind her, she swore that the neighbor, a woman of about fifty, turned around to give her a second glance, but she pushed the eerie feeling to one side and pushed the button for her floor, anxious to get back to her apartment and to Martin.

They had been back from Martha's Vineyard for less than half an hour, and already Sam found herself missing the quiet sanctuary of Martin's family's vacation home by the beach. To be honest, she also found herself missing Martin's family. They had been extremely welcoming, making certain that she felt like she fit in from the moment she arrived. When she had first met Martin, she wondered how he could be so open and caring and genuine given the impression she had always held of his father, but after spending time with the entire family, she saw first hand how he came about his warm disposition.

Opening the door of her apartment and stepping back inside, she found Martin sitting on her sofa watching the bottom line tick by on ESPN, coffee in one hand and a stack of files from his briefcase in the other. "Hey," he said, looking up and patting the seat next to him. "You get your laundry in?"

"Yeah," she replied, walking over and sinking down into the sofa cushions. She ran a free hand through her hair and leaned back in exhaustion.

"Sam," he started, his voice trailing off as he ran his hand along the side of her face. "Are you alright? Worried about tomorrow?"

"I'm trying not to think about it." She sighed and shrugged helplessly, leaning in to rest her head against his shoulder.

"That might be best." He kissed her temple and took a gentle hold on both of her hands, waiting until she met his gaze before continuing. "You don't need to worry though; it's going to be fine."

Sam smiled weakly and joked, "That's easy for you to say, you don't have to deal with Danny all day tomorrow."

He laughed and kissed her knuckles. "True, but I do have to have lunch with the entire city school board. I would rather deal with Danny; at least you have Naomi on your side."

"Viv, too," she dropped her hand and patted his thigh. He gave her a questioning look and she explained with a playful grin, "Viv knows everything. Trust me, she knew long before you showed up at the Bureau last Friday."

"See?" He gestured his hands as though the motions would further emphasize his point. "You're much luckier than I am."

She raised her eyebrows and laughed quietly, feeling more comfortable by the second as they sat and play-argued together. She giggled has he ran his hands along her sides, tickling her, and she leaned back on the sofa, taking him with her as they began to kiss fervently. He trailed kisses along her jaw and then began to nip and suck on her neck, and she ran her hands through his hair as she murmured, "I had a really great time this weekend."

Martin tilted his neck upward to signal his attention, and he gazed at her with tender affection that both soothed and frightened her. "I'm glad you did," he replied as he traced indistinct patterns along her shoulder.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Your sisters are pretty great."

Martin chuckled. "You only like them because they were more than willing to give you dirt on me."

"I'm offended," Sam flicked her wrists and scoffed jokingly. "But they did share some pretty great stories. Your aunt and your cousins even offered to show me pictures if I come over for dinner one Friday night."

"Oh, great," Martin jokingly rolled his eyes, gesturing in mock frustration with one hand. "Just what I need: the other women in my life to gang up against me."

Sam wriggled out from underneath him and scooted until her back hit the armrest of the sofa. She cocked her eyebrows and said, "By the 'other women in your life,' you'd better only be talking about blood relatives, mister." She tilted her head and smiled, her eyes sparkling as she dared him to reply.

Martin sat up and could only laugh at her ridiculous jest. "I am not going to dignify that with a response," he replied in kind, gently grabbing hold of both of her wrists as he leaned forward to kiss her again. She relaxed into his arms, and he said, more serious this time, "I would hope you know that you are the only woman in my life." He paused for a beat, seemingly contemplating something, and added, "at least, the only one I would trust alone in a room with my sisters."

She laughed and touched his face, knowing that Martin was trustworthy and the idea of him being with any other woman was absurd. In moments like these, she realized just how unique men like Martin were and, moreover, how much she relished their time together. It seemed as though the times when they were together flew by faster and faster, while the days and weeks apart stretched out interminably, feeling much longer and far more empty. It was a rare enough occurrence for her to still be in a relationship at almost five months, let alone still be actively invested in it. Even when she had been with Jack, she had not noticed any specific dates or milestones, and by the time they approximated four and then five months, he had withdrawn from her as he readied himself to go back to his wife and daughters and try to make it work.

It was the first time in her life she had been with someone who considered their relationship a top priority, and now she was not sure she could ever go back and do it differently.

"What's on your mind?" Martin pulled her hands into his lap, tilting his had to one side with interest.

She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully, smiling as he watched her intently with his clear blue eyes. Her expression grew mischievous and she grinned slyly. "Tell me about Kathleen Bannister," she quipped, having held his sisters' stories in long enough.

Martin began to stutter in response, his cheeks flushed, and he wiped his hands nervously against the legs of his slacks. She giggled at his obvious embarrassment, feeling a small thrill run through her body at the idea that she could fluster him like this, that she knew yet another side of him that the general public was not privy to.

"Come on," she urged, kissing his cheek as she whispered in his ear. "I heard a little from Caroline and Rebecca, but I want to hear it from you."

"I am going to kill both of them," he muttered in his best younger brother voice. Turning to her, he gestured uncertainly with his hands as he began to relay the story. "At the end of eighth grade, there was a formal dance that was a huge deal. Both of my sisters had gone with their boyfriends at the time, but I never really noticed girls then." He paused, flashing a dimpled grin before remarking, "I was more interested in tossing a football in the backyard, or figuring out a better grip for my curveball."

"Figures," Sam uttered teasingly, lacing her fingers in his to still them as she scooted closer to where he sat.

"Are you going to let me tell this story or not?" He threatened playfully.

She held up her hands in mock defeat. "Go right ahead. I'm not stopping you," she teased.

"Anyway," he feigned indignation and settled back down. "I wasn't particularly interested in going, but I knew that my parents expected me to go because everyone else was. The only problem was that a little over a week beforehand, I still didn't have anyone to go with."

"Was there someone you wanted to ask?" She laughed, meeting his gaze to signal her continued attention.

He shook his head, returning her laugh easily. "No. Like I said, I was more preoccupied with sports practice and debate team..." He paused to roll his eyes. "Debate was my mother's idea; my parents both always knew they wanted me to go into politics." She patted his thigh reassuringly, and he continued. "Anyway that Friday afternoon, a week before the dance, Kathleen came up to me and asked me if I would go with her. She was nice, the only girl on the debate team, and I agreed. The next thing I knew, she leaned up and kissed me -- which would have been awkward enough without the fact that the entire eighth grade was watching."

Martin pulled back, watching her intently as though to gauge her reaction, and she smiled in her amusement. She traced a line along the side of his face and said, still laughing, "That's cute."

"I'm glad you're enjoying this laugh at my expense," he quipped. "It's a good thing you're beautiful."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she replied in kind, enjoying their comfortable banter. She raised her eyebrows. "Alright, flirt. I know that look. Spill."

"Well," he said matter-of-factly, brushing some loose hair from her face. "Tell me about one of your old boyfriends."

She watched him intently as he seemed to shy away from her after his suggestion, seemingly nervous that he had pushed her too far. She ran one of her hands along his arms, simply needing the physical contact as much as he did. She exhaled heavily and shut her eyes to calm herself, knowing that she could trust him but not particularly wanting to dredge up memories of her past. She considered sharing any generic story of high school love gone awry, but there was something that had been eating at the back of her mind for the past few weeks and she had become inexplicably aware of the fact that she felt she should share this part of her past with Martin.

"I was married once," she admitted with a sigh, unwilling to look at him until he brushed his hand on her cheek, forcing her eyes to meet his. She was not sure what she expected to see when she looked at him, but his expression was soft and concern etched in his eyebrows. He was obviously startled, but did not appear angry or distressed. She breathed deeply once again and continued, "When I was eighteen. Maybe more because my mom was so dead set against it than anything else. I moved out just four months later, and that was it."

She finally looked up at Martin as she finished her explanation, holding her breath as she waits for him to respond. Linking their hands together, Martin pulled her closer to him and softly said, "Thank you for sharing that with me."

She shifted her weight and, before she realized what she was saying, continued, "It all seemed so romantic at first, you know? But I wanted to get away from home so badly that I solved one problem, but created another. Turns out there's a lot more to being married than you originally think when you're young and stupid."

Martin remained silent for a few moments, and then replied. "I'm hoping that your brief experience with marriage all those years ago didn't leave you completely soured on it in general..." his tone was light and upbeat, but she could read both fear and uncertainty flickering in his clear blue eyes, "Because sometime in the future, I was hoping it would be something that we would consider."

She met his eyes and ran one hand through her hair, wanting to answer him as honestly as possible. "I never really thought much about it after I left Kevin; I've never even dated anyone for longer than five months." She paused and inhaled deeply, her heart racing wildly in her chest, and softly finished, "but when I think about my future now, I find it hard to imagine you not in it."

xxxxx


	40. Chapter 39

xxxxx

_**chapter thirty-nine**_

xxxxx

_"if it's love" she said  
"then i guess we're gonna have to think  
about the consequences"_  
-Counting Crows, "Anna Begins"

xx

_September 2, 2003  
7:45 am_

Samantha discarded her jacket and took a seat at her desk, immediately pulling at the stack of paperwork waiting for her in her inbox. She sifted through the paperwork, sorting through case reports, old phone records, and other assorted junk mail that was immediately placed in the shredder. She had chosen to arrive into work early that morning not only to clear out her inbox, but also to successfully avoid the rush right at 8:00 as most of her coworkers scrambled to get in on time after a holiday weekend.

"Good morning, Samantha." Sam turned around just in time to see Vivian throw her coat over the back of her chair and shuffle over until she was standing right behind where she sat. "I thought you might get here early today," Viv continued with a sly grin. "Rumor has it you made quite an exit on Friday afternoon."

Sam shrugged her shoulders innocently and laughed with her friend. "Did you get called in over the weekend?" she asked.

"No." Vivian shook her head with a smile. "The head of Marcus' department had a cookout last night, and I actually got to go for a change. I think most of his colleagues were shocked; some of them were of the impression that I was just a figment of his imagination and I didn't really exist."

Sam laughed. "I guess that comes with the job."

"Yeah, it does." Viv shifted her weight and leaned back, supporting herself against the edge of Sam's desk. "Anyway, how was your weekend?"

"It was great," Sam replied, biting back a smile. "It was nice to be able to get away for the weekend."

"I bet," Vivian crossed her arms and smiled. "You must not get much time to yourself between your schedules."

"No, we don't," Sam said, shifting her weight in the chair as she leaned forward to pick up a pen and her notepad as she noticed the rest of the team start to file in.

The two women both began to collect up their things and move to gather at the conference table when Vivian turned, looking her straight in the eyes, and said, "I'm really happy for you, Samantha."

xx

_10:10 am_

Martin sighed as he flipped back the pages of his agenda for the rest of the day. His body jerked as the car hit a bump in the road, and his driver put down the dividing screen just long enough to apologize.

"Senator Fitzgerald?" The voice beside him questioned, and Martin quickly turned his neck to give his primary advisor, Rick Harvey, his full attention. Rick handed him another file folder that held carefully laminated pages, and said, "These are the changes you wanted to make for your speech to the high school this afternoon."

"Great, thanks." Martin began to flip through the pages, skimming over the lines as he refreshed his memory. After spending the majority of the morning reading in the library with underprivileged children at one of the inner city elementary schools, he was scheduled to have lunch with the city school board and then attend an assembly and question and answer session at one of the magnet high schools that specialized in government and international studies.

Beside him he heard Rick answer his cell phone, but he did not listen in, knowing that Rick would let him know if it was anything that concerned him. He continued reading over his brief speech before reviewing a few sample questions for the question and answer session part of the high school's assembly. Getting sidetracked after reading the eighth version of the exact same question on the changing situation in the Middle East, Martin found his mind beginning to wander to the previous evening and hoping that Sam's day was shaping up to be more interesting than his. He did hope, however, that any case she and the team might be working did not interfere with the plans they had made for dinner this evening.

xx

_He could not take his eyes off of her as she sat just inches away from him on the sofa. They had been completely silent since she had answered his question, barring the sound of her steady breathing and the thumping of his own racing heart. He was certain that he had never felt an adrenaline rush quite like this before, leaving him paralyzed instead of feeling the urge to run a marathon. But he had laid it all on the line when he had asked Samantha, however indirectly, on her views for their future, and he was still trying to process her answer._

_He rarely ever acted on impulse like that. Particularly when they had never directly spoken of their plans for the future, preferring to deal with their relationship on a day-by-day basis and tackling the issues as they arose rather than anticipating them. But it was becoming harder and harder to dismiss the fact that he saw more between them in spite of the obstacles, and one day hoped that they could both make sacrifices in order to make their relationship something more permanent._

_He was always careful about voicing those desires to Sam, though, worrying about pushing too hard or too fast between her own obvious fear of long term commitment and the added hurdles of their respective careers._

_Sensing her need for reassurance, the silence feeding on her insecurities, he turned and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. He said nothing and instead let his touch speak for him, linking their fingers together and dropping a chaste kiss against her lips. They sat in a now comfortable silence for a few minutes, simply relishing the time when they could be close to each other without any other outside pressures._

_Finally, however, Sam lifted her head from where it had been resting at the crook of his neck. Smirking, she said, "I still don't get what you were so embarrassed about. That's a cute story for a first girlfriend."_

_Martin shook his head, laughing. "I'm not telling you," he insisted, moving his hands in aimless gestures until they fell back to rest against Sam's shoulders._

_Her lips curled into a smile as she said, "Oh."_

_"Oh, what?"_

_"I get it now," she remarked, matter-of-factly. "That story wounds your tough-guy ego, doesn't it?" He gave her a pointed look, but she would not be deterred. "You're embarrassed that she made the first move!" she finished triumphantly, looking extremely pleased with herself._

_He chose not to reply, on the assumption that some questions are better left unanswered, and instead countered, "I made the first move with you, didn't I?"_

_Sam thought about this for a few moments and said, "If I'm remembering this correctly -- and correct me if I'm wrong --" she held her hands up for emphasis, "Wasn't it your niece who made the first move?"_

_Martin shook his head defiantly. "Completely different. I noticed you long before Kelsey drew that picture."_

_"Delia Rivers' memorial service seems like a lifetime ago," Sam remarked, her voice suddenly airy and distant._

_He lifted her chin with his index finger. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked, searching her eyes for an answer._

_"No." She replied instantly and with certainty, and he found this reassuring. "It's just... What are we supposed to tell people? We met at a funeral, or we got to know each other when I worked the case when his nieces went missing. Either way sounds kind of ... I don't even know."_

_"Dark and morbid?" he suggested, now understanding her point a little better._

_She shrugged and her posture slackened. "Yeah. It's just... it's not like that. How did you explain it to your family?"_

_"I didn't." He replied, and he pulled her closer to him as she eyed him suspiciously. "They never really asked." She settled into him, accepting his explanation, and he said. "All we really need to tell them is that we met at a social function that we were both attending through work, and after we got to know each other better, we decided to give things a try and see what would happen. Everything else is our business."_

_"Okay." She agreed easily, sighing audibly as her breathing evened out against him._

_"Tell you what?" He suggested. "Since I don't have to leave for DC until the red eye on Wednesday morning, let's go out and do something tomorrow night."_

_"Like what?" she sat up straight and asked._

_"I don't know. Dinner somewhere, something casual." He paused and worked his tongue in his cheek. "Normal couple things that don't necessarily involve suits and formal evening wear."_

_"Okay," she replied, biting her bottom lip pensively as she repeated her affirmation. "Normal couple things."_

_He let out a breath he did not know he had been holding._

xx

He forced attention back to the notes in front of him, but as he finished reading, he felt Rick's eyes intent upon him. Turning toward his advisor as Rick muttered his goodbyes and shut the phone, Martin gave him a pointed look in silent question.

"It seems your vacation this past weekend has caught the attention of a few media outlets," Rick replied, placing the phone back in his jacket pocket. "A few of the local papers have called this morning looking for a statement, and they've been directing the messages through me."

Martin furrowed his eyebrows, shifting his weight nervously in the seat. "What kind of statement?"

Rick gave him a look that implied that he had better be kidding, and said after a beat, "The public loves you, you know. You're young, you give them a new perspective, you're not afraid to tell the truth. They appreciate that." Rick paused until Martin gave him a nod to indicate he was still listening, and said. "And -- up until Saturday night -- they were under the impression that you're single and available. You can't blame them for being interested."

Martin shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea that other people find my life so interesting; it's not like I'm some big Hollywood star."

Without missing a beat, Rick pulled out his palm pilot and began to scan through for one thing or another and, eyes never deterring from their search, said, "In some ways, you're far more interesting." Martin eyed his advisor skeptically, and Rick either did not notice or chose not to acknowledge him. Finding whatever he had been looking for on the palm pilot, Rick looked up and nonchalantly said, "If you could give me a statement before we have lunch with the school board, that would be great. I assume they'll want to slip something in before they go to print this evening."

Martin sighed. "They're going to have to wait, Rick. I want to talk to Sam first."

xxxxx


	41. Chapter 40

xxxxx

_**chapter forty**_

xxxxx

_you've got a journey to make  
there's your horizon to chase  
so go far beyond where we stand  
no matter the distance  
i'm holding your hand_  
-Vienna Teng, "Harbor"

xx

_September 3, 2003  
Washington DC  
10:25 am_

"Martin!"

Turning on his heels, Martin scanned the crowded hallways of the Capitol building. His eyes scanned the crowds until they landed on the voice's owner, landing on the tall, lanky, well-dressed form of Joseph DeWitt, the forty-something Junior Senator from Wisconsin. Political disagreements aside, Joseph was one of his fellow Senators whom he actually respected as a person. Martin smiled and waited for Joseph to catch up.

"Hey," Joseph said, falling into step beside him. "I hear you had an interesting weekend."

Martin shrugged his shoulders casually and replied, "It was nice to get away and spend some time with the family."

Joseph turned and smirked at him. "From what I heard, it wasn't just your family you were spending time with."

Martin turned to eye his colleague suspiciously and said, "I guess you heard right, then."

The two men made their way through one set of large, heavy double doors and out onto the steps of the Capitol Building. The warm early fall air blew against Martin's face as they made their way through crowds of tourists and school groups and their fellow elected officers, stopping at the foot of the steps as Colin Adair motioned over to them.

"Martin, Joseph." Colin greeted with a nod of his head. "Good morning."

Martin and Joseph both returned his greeting easily, and the three men lingered in the late morning sunlight. They began to engage in discussion on the status of the Special Committee on Domestic Terrorism, casually debating the pros and cons of the legislature that had been presented by the committee during the just-ended morning session.

"So," Joseph said, crossing his arms as the friendly debate drew to a close. "When are we going to hear about this mystery woman, Martin?"

"She's not really a mystery woman." Colin gestured with his hands before folding his arms across his chest. "I remember her from Delia Rivers' memorial service. She works for the Bureau, right? She's on Malone's team."

Martin bit his lower lip to fight back a full-on grin, chuckling silently that both of his normally well-informed colleagues had yet to read the papers to find out about his relationship with this "mystery woman." He cocked his eyebrows at his friends and said, "Her name is Samantha, and yes, she's on Jack Malone's team." He paused momentarily to take in the expressions on their faces, their curiosity obviously showing, and added, "We've been seeing each other for about five months now."

"So she lives in New York, then?" Joseph inquired, peering from Martin to Colin and back again. Martin nodded, and Joseph gave him a sympathetic smile. "It must be difficult managing your relationship when you live so far away from each other."

Martin smiled back. Joseph's wife and two sons lived back in Milwaukee because she did not want to raise them exposed to the lifestyle of being a politician's children growing up in Washington DC, and Joseph had made comments on several occasions as to how lonely he found life away from his family to be. They had commiserated in the past when they found themselves as the only men to show up stag to social functions. "It's not easy, but we're finding a way to make it work." Martin paused for a moment as a thought crossed his mind. He tilted his head to one side and caught Joseph's eyes. "Hey... have you ever been to Kenosha?"

Joseph frowned in confusion and replied, "Not since I was campaigning four years ago. It's not exactly a booming metropolis... Why?"

"No reason." Martin said, in a tone that he hoped was convincing. As he took in Joseph's reaction to his sudden question, however, he got the idea that maybe Sam wasn't completely overreacting when she had voiced her premonitions the night before.

xx

_Martin's knee bounced uncontrollably as he sat on Sam's sofa waiting for her to finish getting ready. He shook his head and smiled at the idea that Sam was worried about getting ready for a date that they had mutually agreed would be 'casual' but decided it was better not to tease her about it._

_The door from her bedroom creaked open and she stepped out. "Martin?" She said questioningly. "You said you wanted to be ready a little on the early side?"_

_"Yeah." He was breathless as he took in the sight of her. She had changed out of her work attire and into jeans and a light form-fitting sweater: it was simple and casual and that meant the world to him._

_"What is it?"_

_She looked worried, and he motioned for her to come and sit beside him on the sofa. "Nothing, nothing," he reassured her. "It's just... you."_

_Sam nervously tucked some loose hair behind her ear, and the cushion to his left dipped as she sat. He shifted to look at her and said, "Rick brought a few things up earlier today, and I wanted to get your honest opinion about it before I give him a definite answer."_

_Confusion crossed her face as she furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"_

_"It's just..." Martin sighed and inhaled deeply. He could not find the exact words to explain the reason for his extreme nervousness, but deep down there was a part of him that feared her reaction. He fought the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the gnawing sensation that the second he broached the subject Sam would run without a backward glance, and said, "We really caught people's attention this weekend, given that it was Labor Day weekend and it's a known thing that my family takes this annual vacation. The local papers and magazines, well, they're asking about you. About us."_

_Sam shut her eyes, tension evident on her face. When she opened her eyes again, she spoke in a subdued tone that seemed very unlike her. "What could they possibly want to know about me?"_

_"Hey," he soothed, cautiously reaching out to draw her in closer to him. "I happen to find you pretty interesting myself," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. When that did not seem to work, he continued, "They just want a statement or two, they want to know something about us. Unfortunately, this isn't something that's going to go away; the press and the media, they're constantly a part of my life. I don't like it any more than you do."_

_"At least you got to choose," she snapped, looking away as her entire body tensed up._

_"Well, I guess you have a choice now, too." He replied in an equally irritated tone and instantly regretted it when he saw the hurt etched across her face. He took a deep breath and gathered himself. "I'm sorry," he smiled weakly, offering his hand apologetically. "I know this isn't easy."_

_"I am too," she said softly. "I didn't mean it like that. I just... I know I should have been expecting this, but I guess I wasn't as ready for it as I thought."_

_"It's alright," he reassured her. "It's not exactly something that you can ever be 'ready' for; it just happens and then you deal with it. So we'll deal with it together -- I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to."_

_"I know." She smiled weakly back at him. "So... what exactly do they want to know? And what are we supposed to tell them?"_

_"Well, the general public is full of busybodies. I would assume they want to know absolutely everything. The key is, though, we find things to tell them that will satisfy their interest while at the same time keeping as much of our sanity and privacy intact as possible."_

_"Like what?"_

_"Oh, my guess would be that for now your name, age, the fact that you work for the FBI, and that we met at a social function and have been seeing each other for about five months ought to do the trick." He ticked off on each of his fingers as he spoke, then folded his hands emphatically in his lap. He broke into a smile as she laughed at his display._

_"You sound like you know what you're talking about," she remarked. "You sure you really have never done this before?"_

_"Well, I have. Not with any girlfriends or anything, but it's the same protocol for essentially any significant happening in my life." He explained quickly._

_"Oh, okay." She nodded in assent, but still seemed hesitant._

_He ran a hand gently across the side of her face. "What is it?"_

_Sam lowered her eyes and softly said, "I'm still not sure. I mean, when the public finds out that I'm a small town girl from Kenosha, Wisconsin, I'm afraid they're going to paint me out to be something that I'm not. Don't get me wrong, but I'm not exactly thrilled at the prospect of being the poor girl with lousy parents who got swept off her feet." She paused for a beat, and continued, "And even though your parents and I have gotten along thus far, I'm sure your father isn't going to want the whole world to know that not only am I not from a high society family, but that I'm from the middle of nowhere."_

_"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Martin could not help but laugh out loud at her insinuations. "Now you are reading way too much into this." He took hold of her hand and steadied her against his side. "I highly doubt it's going to get that far, at least not in any reputable media outlet. My advisors and publicists do a great job, and they would stop things before they got out of hand. And furthermore, I don't anticipate my parents being a problem. My mother adores you and is already bugging me to bring you over for dinner the next time you're in the DC area, and my father - for all of his shortcomings - will likely defer back to Mom on this. He thinks you're a great agent, and my guess is that's enough for him."_

_"Okay." Sam said with a definitive nod of her head. "Whatever you and Rick think is best is fine with me. You know this better than I do, and I trust your judgment."_

_He rose from the sofa and held his hands out for her. She rose as well, falling easily into his embrace as she returned his kiss. He took one look at his watch and said, "We have reservations." before leaning down to kiss her again._

_She pulled away, looking up at him through deep brown eyes, and smiled. "What now?"_

_He tugged her towards the door of her apartment, holding it open for her as they made their way out into her hallway and to the elevator. "Nothing at all," he said. "It's just being here with you. You make me feel like a real person again; I'd forgotten how nice it feels."_

xxxxx


	42. Chapter 41

xxxxx

_**chapter forty-one**_

xxxxx

_said there'd be no going back  
promised myself i'd never be that sad  
maybe that's why you've come along  
to show me, it's not always bad_  
-Jem, "Falling For You"

xx

_New York City  
6:40 pm_

"You realize you're not going to be able to avoid me much longer, Spade."

Sam laughed as she gathered up the last of her things, ready to call it quits after a long and draining day of being stuck in the office. She was trying not to read too much into the fact that Jack seemed to deliberately assign her to background checks and bank records, and she was glad for the distraction as she heard her friend call out from behind her. Adjusting the buttons on her jacket, she turned around to face Naomi. "You busy tonight, Russell?"

Naomi shook her head. "Nope. You want to do dinner or something?"

"Sure, dinner would be great." Sam smiled and felt her spirits lift considerably as she made dinner plans with her closest friend. Although she had her reservations about everything that had happened in the past six days, having Martin around had offered her reassurance that it would all be worthwhile. But he had been on the red eye back to Washington that morning, leaving her alone with her thoughts, fears, and insecurities. And with the New York tabloid newspapers.

From the moment she and Martin had first decided to see where things went, she knew this moment would be coming. The general public was fascinated by Martin, by the fact that on top of everything else, he was young and single. Now suddenly he wasn't, and all roads led back to her. Thankfully, Naomi easily agreed to them ordering in instead of going out somewhere. Sam did not feel up to worrying at each turn as to whether or not this person or that was giving her a second glance.

Both women eager to leave the office after a long and unsuccessful day of running into dead ends with every lead they tracked. Sam even more discouraged than Naomi as she had been stuck in the office all day, and she was extremely grateful when she found herself sitting on Naomi's sofa, sipping wine as they waited for their Thai food to arrive.

"So," Naomi emphatically folded her hands on her lap as she smirked in Sam's direction. "How does it feel to be a mini celebrity?"

Sam laughed and, on her empty stomach, felt already lighter as the wine seemed to go straight to her head. "It's not like I'm suddenly the next Carolyn Kennedy," she protested.

Naomi gave her a pointed look in reply, but dropped the subject. She looked over the top of her wine glass as she sipped her white zinfandel and said, "So tell me honestly, Sam. How was it?" She tilted her head to one side, looking straight into Sam's eyes. "I mean, you've seemed fine with everything, but it's hard to tell with you sometimes."

"No, no. We had a good time." Sam paused and considered the intense look that Naomi was giving her. She took a long drink from her glass, and then set it back down on the coffee table before her. "I'm not regretting that I went, if that's what you're asking."

"I wasn't, but that's good to hear." Naomi leaned back and brought her arms up to her chest. "But I know this must be weird for you. You're always so careful to leave your personal life out of the workplace... I just want you to know that I'm here if you want to talk about it. I may not be as wise as Viv, or have known you for as long as Danny, but we have to stick together, right? We're like Betsy-Tacy."

"Betsy what?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Betsy-Tacy." Naomi answered matter-of-factly. "You mean to tell me you've never read those books?"

"Never even heard of them."

"They were written about two girls growing up together in Minnesota at the turn of the 20th century." Naomi furrowed her eyebrows as though she could still not believe that Sam had never heard of the books before, and continued. "They were my favorite books for forever when I was growing up, and Betsy and Tacy were the main characters. At first they didn't like each other, but then they became best friends."

Sam could not fight back a laugh. "Sounds not entirely unlike someone else I know."

xx

_Naomi slipped into work at the last possible second that Monday morning. It had been two weeks since she had transferred to Missing Persons, and already she found herself anxious to return to her previous assignment in White Collar, in spite of how miserable she had been when she was working there._

_But even on the worst day in White Collar, she had not felt as hopelessly and desperately alone as she did in Missing Persons. It was not that her new team did not do a good job. On the contrary, she already knew each one of them to be highly motivated agents who poured all of their energy into each case._

_The problem was, they all seemed to be very settled in their ways and there was no room for a new team member to break through._

_Up ahead, she saw Danny stand behind Samantha at her desk, leaning over her shoulder as he inspected something on her computer screen._

_"Yeah, that's him." Danny was saying, standing up straight as Samantha turned around in her chair. "My gut says he doesn't have enough of a motive; he got what he wanted when the husband paid him to keep quiet."_

_"But that doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't know something. I say it's worth a shot." Sam countered, gesturing with her hands._

_Naomi sighed. A case had come in, and they hadn't thought it worthwhile to call her. It was no secret that the rest of the team had yet to adjust to her joining them, but it still stung with each time they emphasized the fact that she had yet to earn their trust. Taking a deep breath, she cautiously approached her two co-workers. "Did a new case come in?" She motioned towards the white board, where the photograph of a young woman with strawberry blonde hair was tacked up with the words 'Mary Mazzilli' scrawled underneath in black ink._

_"Uh, yeah." Danny replied, an unreadable expression present on his face. "She went out for drinks with a couple of her friends last night, never made it to the bar. Husband called it in at 3:00 AM when he realized she hadn't come home." He paused for a moment, a look of guilt flashing in his eyes before he quickly added. "We didn't want to call you in the middle of the night."_

_"Anyway..." Sam cut in quickly. "Danny and I were going to go talk to the bartender, who appears he might have something to hide. But we have the last five years' worth of credit card statements being faxed over here as we speak, if you want to check those out when they come in."_

_Naomi nodded and bit her lip, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes until Samantha and Danny had made their way down the hall towards the elevator, and out of sight._

xx

"That seems like a lifetime ago," Naomi said wistfully, pulling her knees up on the sofa and hugging them close to her chest.

"Yeah." Sam agreed. She tucked her hair behind her ear and said, "I'm sorry we weren't exactly welcoming. I know it doesn't mean much, especially now, but I wasn't in a very good place back then." She paused and bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "The more I go through therapy with Lisa, the more she reminds me that us becoming friends was good for me back then."

Naomi rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Lisa's good like that, isn't she?" Reading the silent question on Sam's lips, Naomi explained. "I've been seeing Lisa since I got out of the Academy and was placed back in the New York office. I was having a hard time dealing with everything ... after Thomas died. She really helped me get back on my feet again. Hell, she was the person who encouraged me to transfer out of White Collar..." When their laughter died out, Naomi added, "Just promise me this, Sam... When you run off to DC to marry that boy, at least make sure I'm invited to the wedding okay?"

Sam laughed nervously, grateful when the buzz from Naomi's front door signaled the arrival of their dinner. She was, so to speak, saved by the bell.

xx

_September 10, 2003  
7:00 pm_

Sam depressed the button on the front of her computer screen, hearing the familiar whirring noise as the system shut down and her monitor went blank. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath in before rising from her desk with determination.

A quick glance around the empty room told her that the rest of the team had already gone home, and she strode purposefully toward the soft light coming from Jack's office. She rapped softly on the doorframe and waited until Jack looked up from his stack of paperwork before letting herself in.

As she stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind her, she noticed that Jack looked significantly older and more worn-down. "You're still here?" She asked.

"So are you." He countered, pushing stacks of case reports to one side and leaning forward against his desk.

Sam shrugged. "I'm on my way out, but I wanted to come talk to you." Jack looked up but did not reply, and she continued. "I'm not reading too much into this, am I?"

"Into what?"

"It's been almost two weeks now, and I haven't gone out into the field once, Jack." She glared at him, folding her arms decisively across her chest. "In case you've forgotten, I've been clear to go back into the field for over a month now."

"I know that," Jack replied, his voice irritated and defensive. "But we can't risk having your new _situation_," he paused to emphasize his words, "compromise any of our investigations. I won't have it."

"And I would?" Sam ran a hand through her hair, braced her shoulders, and said, "I've grown up and moved on, Jack, but I'm still me. I haven't suddenly become Carolyn Kennedy here."

Jack opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a magazine, setting it down and pushing it towards her. She fingered the flimsy folded-over magazine pages as she flipped to the inside cover, furrowing her eyebrows as Jack said, "People magazine is a more reputable source than the New York Post, is it not?"

Ignoring him, she read on as the inside cover directed her to page 119. She fingered the headline as she read: _SENATOR FITZGERALD'S WEEKEND GETAWAY NOT JUST A FAMILY VACATION._

Surrounding the headline were three pictures of Martin and herself together. One as they danced together at the Chatham Bars Inn, her laughing as he twirled her in his arms. The second a smaller shot, clearly taken at a distance, of them running along the beach; her leg had been cramping up on her and he had taken her along his normal morning route as she stretched it out. The final shot of the two of them in New York City, dressed casually in jeans from the night he had taken her out on a 'normal date.'

She had been oblivious to any of the photographs being taken, and an odd sensation coursed through her body, that she likened to watching herself through a fish bowl. Breathing deeply so as to steady herself, she began to read the short blurb alongside the photographs.

_Extremely popular New York Senator Martin Fitzgerald did not make his annual family trek to Martha's Vineyard alone this year. Fitzgerald, 32, was long thought to be single until he proved otherwise this past weekend, arriving in Martha's Vineyard accompanied by Samantha Spade, his girlfriend of almost five months. Spade, 30, works for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but sources close to the family deny that it was Fitzgerald's father, the FBI's Deputy Director, who introduced the pair, instead indicating that the two met at a social function linked to Spade's work at the FBI._

_Though the family could not be reached for a statement, a source close to Fitzgerald said that the young couple's lack of public appearances up to this point spoke to the couple's desire to preserve Ms. Spade's privacy. "They are both private people," the source told People magazine. "But I can assure you that they are both extremely happy together."_

Sam chuckled inwardly as she finished reading, thinking how much the inside source sounded like Rick Harvey. But as she remembered that Jack was still in front of her, watching her intently, she straightened her posture and said, "Jack... I'm sorry that you and Maria couldn't work things out, but you made your choice and now I am making mine."

She stood in silence for a few moments and just as Sam turned to go she heard Jack call out her name softly. She stopped to lean against the doorframe. Jack sighed and ran his hand over his face as he said, "Has it really been that long?"

Sam nodded and replied, "Coming up on five months."

He lowered his eyes, studying the framed photograph of Hanna and Kate he had sitting on one corner of his desk.

"Goodnight," she said as she strode out of the office.

He looked up as he heard her exit. But it was too late; she was already gone.

xxxxx


	43. Chapter 42

xxxxx

_**chapter forty-two**_

xxxxx

_and if i told you  
that i'm sorry  
would you tell me that you were wrong  
or would you hold me down forever  
if i came to you for answers_  
-Matt Nathanson, "I Saw"

xx

Sam left the office feeling liberated, her steps light and her body relaxed as she made her way home. As she parked her car and made her way inside her apartment building, she smiled and waved at her doorman before pulling her cell phone out of her pocket and dialing the familiar numbers.

"Hello..." Martin sounded breathless and distracted as he answered.

"Hey, it's me." She replied, switching to tuck her phone under her other ear as she boarded the elevator and lit the button for her floor. "You okay?"

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." His voice evened out on the other end of the line. "I saw you come up on caller ID; we're in recess now, and I wanted to find someplace private." He paused for a few seconds, and Sam listened to the even sound of his breathing on the other end of the line. "Anyway, how are you?"

"I'm good." She smiled. "I talked to Jack tonight."

"Really? What did he say?"

When his tone of voice did not change, Sam let out a breath she did not know she'd been holding. She tried to avoid bringing Jack into conversation with Martin, knowing how insecure he seemed about their past affair. She had mentioned her frustrations about being confined to the office over the course of the past week, however, and he had encouraged her to talk to Jack about it. She shifted her weight and leaned against the side of the elevator car and said, "He said he didn't want me to compromise any of the team's investigations, which is crazy because I would never allow things to get that far." The elevator door slid open and she sighed and stepped out into the hallway. "I don't know if he has any subconscious intentions, but I think I set him straight either way."

"It will all blow over by sometime next week," he reassured her. "Besides, I've learned that the public has a very specific idea of who we are and what we do. Chances are that it will take a lot for them to connect the dots and realize who you are. I'm sure you can work something out so that you can still be in the field." He paused, and both ends of the line fell silent. After a few moments, she heard him cough to clear his throat, and say, "What is it, Sam?"

"I just..." her voice trailed off as she stopped to open the door of her apartment. When the door was firmly shut and locked behind her, she slumped down on her chair and settled down against the cushions. "He seemed so sad. It was completely unlike him, and I can't help but feel a little bit guilty," she sighed, slowly and cautiously. "I kind of feel responsible for what's going on with him."

"Right."

Sam closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "Martin..." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"No." He said shortly. "Don't be sorry."

She sighed audibly. She hated that they were both so quick to get defensive when Jack came into the conversation. She didn't know how to assuage his obvious insecurities, but she resolved to ask Lisa during their next session which was not scheduled until the next week. So she swallowed and simply said, "I don't want to have this argument over the phone."

"No. I'm glad you told me." His breath hitched, and he added, "And we're not arguing."

She found the whole conversation absurd and let out a low chuckle that did not escape his notice. He grunted on the other end of the line, and she remarked, "I'm sorry, Martin. It's just... now we're arguing about whether or not we're arguing. It does seem kind of crazy."

She felt herself relax a little as he chuckled back in agreement. "Okay, okay," he uttered, the laugh still evident in his voice. "Now we're not arguing."

She kicked off her dress shoes and crossed her legs underneath her as she sat. "We've got to find a way to work around this. I'm sorry I brought it up, but I can't help that I feel guilty. I know that Jack and Maria had plenty of problems before he even knew me, but that doesn't change the way I feel. And none of this changes us. You do know that, right?"

She heard him breath deeply, but he deflected his emotions and quipped, "Your guilt complex is worse than mine. You are aware that I am the one who was raised Catholic, yes?"

"Yeah." She laughed, but still held back. "Martin?" Her voice caught in her throat and she closed her eyes. She waited for him to answer and said, "We're okay, right?"

"We're okay." He repeated affirmatively. "I trust you, but I can't help getting a little jealous. He gets to see you every day, and I can't compete with that."

She shifted her weight in the chair and breathed, "You don't have to."

Her neck jerked around as she heard a knock at her door. She frowned as the knock grew louder and more impatient. Holding her cell phone away from her face, she shouted "I'm coming" in the direction of the door. Bringing the phone back against her ear, she said, "I'm sorry, I'd better get that."

"Yeah, and I'd better go too. Recess should be just about over by now." He paused, and she could hear his deep breathing on the other end of the line. "I'll call you when I get to the airport, and I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Okay, I'll let you know if anything changes." She replied, smiling. She had not been expecting to see Martin again for another few weeks, but tomorrow was the two year anniversary of September 11 and Martin had been asked to be present at several different memorial services. Furthermore, his party had thrown together a "last minute" dinner to discuss several last minute issues concerning the November elections that Martin was begrudgingly attending, and he had decided to conduct most of his business out of his New York office and make a long weekend out of it. She was looking forward to seeing him sooner than she had anticipated, and had allowed herself to be hopeful that nothing would come up at work this weekend to spoil their plans. "Goodnight, Martin."

"Goodnight, Sam," he replied before the other end of the line went dead.

Sam closed her phone and set it down on the coffee table just as the knocking at her front door began once again. "I'm coming!" she said, trying to keep the irritation in her voice in check. Her bare feet padded quickly on the soft carpet as she made her way to the door, turning the lock and opening it without peering through the peep hole to see who was on the other side.

And there, standing in the hallway before her, was her mother.

Sam's posture began to tense up once more as her jaw fell open. She gaped silently for a few seconds before she found her voice and stuttered, "I... uh..."

Betsy Spade curled her lips in a half-smile, and Sam could see tears form in the corner of her mother's eyes as she said, "Hi, Samantha."

"Hi Mom," Sam returned. She wiped at a phantom crease in her pant leg before weakly raising her arm to motion inside. "Do you, uh... Do you want to come in?"

"I didn't fly all the way here just to stand in your hallway," Betsy commented with an ironic laugh.

Sam slowly ushered her mother inside and, taking a deep calming breath to assuage her apprehension, said, "Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soda?"

Betsy settled herself on the sofa and replied, "I'm fine, honey." Sam watched as her mother's gaze slowly rotated around the entire apartment. "You have a nice place," she commented, and Sam suddenly felt guilty that she had no photos of her mother or Lindsey out on display.

"Thanks," Sam replied softly and took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. She exhaled and casually started, "I don't mean to sound callous, but what are y..."

She never got a chance to finish though, as her mother held her hands up and finished, "What am I doing here?" Betsy folded her hands back in her lap and explained, "I know it seems sudden after all these years, but I've wanted to see you for so long. So when I got a phone call from Lindsey earlier this week telling me that I should take a look at this week's People magazine because you were in it... Well, you can only imagine my shock when I saw that article. That couldn't possibly be my daughter." Betsy stopped for a minute as her gaze fell on the framed photograph on the end table. She picked it up to finger the frame and remarked, "But I guess it's true."

Betsy put the frame back in its place and Sam's eyes followed until they fell on the photograph inside. It was a beautiful picture that Rebecca had taken the last day they had been at Martha's Vineyard. They all sat outside while Martin's uncle Roger fixed lunch on the grill, Martin's arm was around her as they laughed at something he had said. One of Rebecca's cameras had already been out as she had been taking pictures of Kelsey and Bridget for Caroline and Tim to use as their Christmas card picture, and Rebecca had used the opportunity to snap a series that started out with them just sitting talking together, then of them laughing, and finally of him kissing her gently before Kelsey had called out "Ewww! Gross!" and the entire family had laughed. Rebecca had emailed all of her pictures from the weekend to Samantha, who had thought it fitting that she frame at least one and set it out on display.

Drifting back to reality she saw her mother's gaze fixed upon her, intent until she explained. "Yes Mom, it's true." She had the good nature to appear guilty and subdued that she would be in such a significant relationship for so long and not mention it to her mother even once. "We've been together for about five months now."

Betsy nodded as though it was the answer she had been expecting but not the answer that she had wanted to hear. "I know we don't talk much... or ever, really. But why didn't you tell me?"

"We have a bad track record in that department," Sam replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

"I guess we do." Betsy agreed. "But it's been twelve years, Samantha. I'd like to think it's in the past enough that we're more than just a phone call at birthdays and Christmas."

Sam's knee jerked up and down nervously, a bad habit she picked up in her early days in the Bureau, and she sighed. "The phone line goes both ways, Mom."

Betsy gave Sam a pointed look, and her eyes once again scanned the apartment. "I guess we're even, though. You've done well for yourself in New York, Samantha." She paused for a beat, studying the newspaper that was lying out on the coffee table. She shifted her weight and moved so that she was sitting directly next to Samantha, reaching out to touch Sam's forearm as she said, "Your sister wanted to come, too. But she was afraid you wouldn't let us in if she came along."

Sam lowered her eyes, unable to look directly at her mother as she recalled the last time she saw her older sister.

"Look at me, sweetheart," Betsy implored, her voice breaking. Through her own blurred vision, Sam thought she saw traces of tears in the corner of her mother's eyes as well. "I'm so sorry, baby. I never meant for any of this to happen. But when I saw your picture in that magazine I just knew... We missed out on so much when you and Linds were younger, I couldn't bear the thought of missing out on any more."

xxxxx


	44. Chapter 43

xxxxx

_**chapter forty-three**_

xxxxx

_through the streets and down the hill  
i stared out the window  
underneath i started to feel  
something had finally let go_  
-Ivy, "Blame It On Yourself"

xx

_September 11, 2003  
9:45 am_

Sam inhaled deeply and shut her eyes. She massaged her temples, forcing herself to focus once again on the report in front of her. She had been desperately hoping for a case to come in so that she would have something to take her mind off of the previous evening, but to no avail. Instead she found herself stuck doing backed up peer review case files, her eyes wandering off as she silently struggled to pay attention to the reports in front of her.

Giving up as she felt a headache coming on, she leaned back and pushed her arms against the edge of her desk. She reached to the handle of her top drawer, pulling it open and feeling blindly until she felt the small bottle of ibuprofen in her hands. She slowly twisted the top off and shook two pills into her hand. Standing, her eyes scanned the bullpen as she strode purposefully towards the break room, anxious to have a few moments to herself.

The door shut behind her with a soft thud, and she made her way over to the refrigerator. She pulled out a water bottle and washed the ibuprofen down with one quick swig, relishing the feeling of the cool liquid as it coated her throat. She took a series of deep breaths and steadied herself as she leaned back against the counter.

She knew she looked the worse for wear that morning, but she could not help it. She had not slept well the night before, tossing and turning before finally succumbing to a fitful and restless slumber. Her mother's sudden visit had taken her by surprise, dredging up more painful memories than Sam cared to remember. She habitually ignored those memories, finding it much easier to pretend that her family was never close than to remember how rapidly things fell apart.

xx

_"What happened to you?"_

_Samantha's long ponytail fell over her face as she lifted her head to see where Lindsey's originated from. Lindsey stood by the stove in the kitchenette, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders in waves. Lindsey was dressed in a miniskirt and had stolen jewelry from their mother's bedroom. She was a freshman in high school and had started spending more and more nights out with her friends, anything to get out of the trailer park. Sam did not blame her, but at the same time, found herself missing her older sister more and more. With their mother still holding down two jobs to make ends meet, Sam knew it would be yet another long night home along, which is why she had been out playing softball with some of the other kids from her class in middle school that evening._

_"I slid into home and Tommy fell on me when he was trying to tag me out." Sam mumbled, still feeling a little groggy from the pain medicine she had been given. "His mom took me to the ER. I broke my wrist." She waved the temporary splint the ER doctor had put on in the air without thinking, and she winced when she felt the pain shoot from her forearm all the way up into her shoulder._

_"Oh. Sorry." Lindsey spun around and scurried back out of eyesight, but Sam could hear her in the bathroom rifling through their mother's makeup._

_An indeterminate amount of time had passed as Sam lay essentially motionless on the small sofa, still worn out from her evening visit to the emergency room and the pain medicine. Lindsey had long since departed for her party when the trailer door opened once again and Betsy Spade shuffled in slowly, shoulder slumped in exhaustion._

_"Oh, Sam, honey. Hi."_

_"Hi, mom." Sam mumbled into the sofa cushion. She waited a few minutes propped up on her good arm but settled back down as Betsy busied herself in the kitchenette, making a racquet as she rifled through drawers and cabinets. The noise irritated Sam, and she slowly rose and began to shuffle to the bedroom she shared with Lindsey. Her mother called her name and she spun her head around quickly. "Yes?"_

_"What happened to you?" Betsy gestured towards the splint on Sam's left arm._

_"I broke my arm." She replied matter-of-factly, holding her good arm on her hip. "The doctor said that I need to see a specialist next week to have a real cast put on after the swelling goes down. And Mrs. McQuiddy tried to call you, but you were at work. She said you could give her a call anytime if you want to talk about it."_

_"Oh, uh. Okay. Thanks, Sam." Betsy glanced around the kitchen distractedly before slumping onto a chair at the table and peeling the top off of her yogurt. She rubbed at her chin. "I'll call her later. I'm tired tonight."_

_"Sure. Fine." Sam leaned against the doorframe and watched as her mother absent-mindedly ate her dinner. After it became clear that Betsy was not up for any further conversation, Sam slammed the door behind her. She threw herself on her bed and whispered under her breath. "Whatever."_

_Her tears fell freely as they moistened her pillow, and she succumbed to a restless slumber feeling hollow and empty and very much alone._

xx

"Be careful, Sam. Don't break anything in that pretty little head of yours." Sam whipped her neck around to see Danny staring at her intently, a smirk on his lips. She shrugged her shoulders, and he stepped up beside her and gestured with his hands as he said, "You were thinking pretty hard about something there. Are you alright?"

Sam sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I guess so."

"What's up?"

Sam lifted the bottle to her lips and took another long drink of water. She crossed her arms and replied, "My mom decided to stop in for a visit last night."

Danny frowned and tilted his neck to the side. "All the way from Wisconsin?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "She saw the article in People and wanted to ask me about it in person."

"It makes sense," Danny commented off-handedly and went to take a seat at the round table in the middle of the room. He turned his upper body to one side so that he could look at her and said, "But there's more to it, isn't there?"

"How could you tell?" She exhaled and rolled her eyes before shuffling forward to take the seat beside him. She leaned back against the chair and massaged her temple.

Danny laughed quietly. "Like it or not, I think I know you pretty well by now." He patted her forearm and said, "So come on. Tell me what's wrong."

"Thanks Dr. Phil," she cocked her eyebrows and smiled sarcastically, eliciting another laugh out of him. She wiped aimlessly at a scratch in the tabletop and lowered her eyes as she breathed, "She seemed so ... hurt that I hadn't told her myself."

"Can you blame her?" Danny began to ask. He stopped sheepishly when she shot a stern look in his direction that warned him not to venture any further with that line of questioning, and instead said, "I would have been hurt too, if I had found out in a magazine. I mean, you're dating Daddy Dearest's only son, who just so happens to also be a United States Senator."

"You know, I actually think you would like him if you gave him a chance." Sam shifted her weight and leaned forward defensively in her seat.

"If you like him that much, I'm sure that I would." Danny placed one hand on her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "But I would have liked the opportunity to decide for myself." Danny leaned forward and reached for the empty coffee cup left at the table when its owner vacated the room. He spun the empty mug around slowly and tapped his fingers against the side. His nails made a clinking noise as they hit against the ceramic cup. "I understand why you didn't want to say anything, but it's me, Sam."

"Things were complicated enough as it was." She shrugged and cast her eyes around the room. "As much as I try, dysfunction seems to follow me around."

Danny released an ironic chuckle and drew his arms in close to his sides. "That makes two of us."

"Naomi?" Danny lowered his eyes, and although she knew he did not want to talk about it, she decided to press the issue. "Have you even talked to her about it? I mean really talked to her about it?"

"She's made it very clear where she stands," Danny replied with a false-casual wave of his hand. "And we're not talking about me, we're talking about you."

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling her headache coming back in full force in spite of the ibuprofen she took not long before. Naomi had told her that she did not know what to make of the overtures Danny made towards her, and coupling her own uncertainties with Danny's mixed signals, Naomi felt increasingly confused and conflicted by the second. Unsure of how to convey this to Danny without betraying Naomi's confidence, she shivered and rubbed her hands back and forth along her arms. "You should talk to her; you might be surprised at what she has to say."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" She shrugged, sighing as she ignored the pointed look she knew Danny must be giving her. She reached for the handle of the empty mug and tilted it forward to study the coffee stain that remained on the bottom. "My mom started asking me all of these questions about him and us and where we're going."

"It was too much pressure?" He asked knowingly, a reassuring smile curling at his lips.

"You could say that." Her breath caught at the base of her throat and goose bumps rose along the skin on her forearms.

"I think you're reading too much into this," he answered, shifting in his chair and waiting until she looked back to indicate she was listening. "No one is intentionally trying to put pressure on you. They're just happy for you and naturally curious; the rest of it is in your head."

She released a long sigh and lowered her eyes, running one hand along the base of her shoulder to work out the knot that had settled there. "I feel like everyone has these impossible expectations of me now that I'll never be able to meet."

"Sam," He touched her forearm lightly, and she slowly brought her head up to meet his eyes. "The only expectations that matter are the ones that the two of you set together. The rest of it will all dissipate in time."

Sam smiled weakly and said, "Thanks for the advice, Rico Suave."

"I do what I can." He laughed. "I'll give you a break this time, but next time it'll cost you." He winked cheekily as he rose from the table and walked towards the door. He stopped and leaned back against the doorjamb as he said, "And don't worry about your mother so much. Your family is your family and, like it or not, there's nothing that we can do to change that. We just keep on in spite of them."

She called out his name as he turned to leave, and he spun back around and focused his gaze intently upon her as she said, "We both know that it's never that simple. Martin and I are so different sometimes that it's like night and day." She frowned and cleared her throat. "What if we can't get past that?"

"If you can't compromise, then it is probably for the best." Danny shrugged but smiled knowingly as he put his hands in his pockets. "But I think you'll find a way to make it work. You just have to ask him what he wants and then go from there."

"I don't have to ask him what he wants," She cocked her eyebrows and tilted her head, "I already know." Sam released a short laugh for lack of knowing how else to react. She never held any doubt that Martin wanted a wife, kids, and the white picket fence, and not just for show purposes either. He had even made indications that eventually he saw her in that future with him, but while she knew that she wanted him in her future as well, she worried that the only future she felt she could offer would not be enough. She inhaled deeply and said, "I just don't know how to explain to him that I've never seen that life for myself. It's a nice fantasy, but we both know that reality isn't like that."

"Maybe we do," Danny replied, "But I've always wanted a family anyway." He shrugged and cocked his head to one side. "The worse it got at home, the more I swore that one day I would show them that I could do it right." He shifted his weight forward and said, "Look, the only thing I can tell you is talk to him. You're going to have to resolve this at one point or another, and you won't be able to do it if you hide from the root of the issue."

She nodded as he left her alone with her thoughts. She considered his words carefully, wondering how they had taken two similarly broken childhoods and come up with such perpendicular reasoning. She wished she could borrow some of Danny's optimism that allowed him to believe after all the horrible things he'd seen that a life and a family and a future were all still possibilities.

Regardless of that, she knew that Danny had managed to hit at the heart of the insecurities that seeing her mother so suddenly had already heightened. Her real concern did not lie in how she would hold up to everyone else's expectations, but instead in how she would hold up to Martin's.

xxxxx


	45. Chapter 44

xxxxx

_**chapter forty-four**_

xxxxx

_and somehow i lost touch  
when you went out of sight  
when you got lost into the city  
got lost into the night_  
--PJ Harvey, "We Float"

xx

_7:45 pm_

Sam combined all of the leftover takeout food and condensed it to fit inside two Styrofoam containers. She placed the leftover food in her refrigerator, not bothering to rearrange things to make a long-term place in the assumption that Martin would still be hungry when he arrived in the next hour. She chuckled silently at his eating habits, still in awe that a man who could eat as much as he did and still maintain his figure. She grabbed her glass of water from the kitchen table and called out to where her mother sat on the sofa. "Do you want anything else to drink, mom?"

"No, no. I'm fine." Betsy replied, looking up as Sam entered the room and took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa.

"I put a pot of coffee on, if you want any later." She smiled awkwardly at Betsy and wiped her hands nervously on the crease of her pant leg. She chuckled nervously and said, "It should be ready by the time Martin gets home."

"And he knows..." Betsy began, a slight stutter in her voice. "He knows that I'm here?"

"Yeah, he does." The corner of Sam's lips curled upwards in a small smile, "I talked to him when he got in late this morning."

xx

_Sam sat at the conference table with Vivian, sorting through a box of DMV records that needed to be re-filed. She heaved a sigh and looked up at Vivian. "Do you have A through F?" she asked. "Because I've got John di Alto right here."_

_"Yeah, that's me." Vivian held her hand out and inspected the folder than Sam passed to her. Vivian cocked her head to one side and stared back with an intense gaze that made Sam think that Vivian definitely had something on her mind. However, before Vivian could say something Sam heard the familiar buzzing of her cell phone._

_Reaching into her pocket, she glanced back at Viv and mouthed 'I'll be right back' before standing and walking out towards the balcony._

_She slid the glass door shut behind her, flipped open her phone and pressed 'Talk.'_

_"Hey," she said with a smile, walking over to lean her free elbow against the metal railing to support her weight. "Was your flight okay?"_

_"Yeah, it was fine." Martin paused, and she heard a car shut at the other end of the line. Martin must be getting into his car. "The plane landed ten minutes ago. How are you doing?"_

_"I'm fine." She replied, as steadily as she could._

_"You're not." He answered though the static from poor cellular reception by the airport. "You're holding something back. Is everything okay?"_

_She smiled to herself, realizing how good it felt to have Martin in her life. It was a wonderful feeling to have someone who could sense her mood even through the phone line. She sighed softly and said, "My mom is in town."_

_"And?" he prompted gently._

_"Shouldn't that take care of it?" she joked, laughing out of a twisted sense of irony. She breathed in, and the silence from the other end of the line felt deafening. She knew Martin was immensely curious about her family, and that eventually he would start asking about it. Apparently, fate decided to intervene and force the issue sooner than she had wanted. "She's going to want to meet you, you know..." Sam warned, rubbing at her temples._

_"I want to meet her too, Sam."_

_She smiled in spite of herself at how easily Martin took everything in stride. It was one of the qualities that seemed to make him an excellent politician, and an even better significant other. Even so, she felt the need to warn him. "My mother is... well, she's very different from the parents you're used to."_

_"Sam," he breathed reassuringly, and she used his quick pause to shift the phone from one ear to the other. "You're not going to scare me away that easily. If I can grow up with my father, I can handle anything."_

_She laughed. "Your father isn't __**that**__ bad."_

xx

Sam crossed her legs and took a sip from her glass of water. She took an ice cube into her mouth, sucking it thoughtfully in the hollow of her cheek. She peered over at her mother, who sat with her arms crossed and one knee jerking up and down like rapid fire. It struck Sam that she had never before seen her mother appear this uneasy, so she coughed to clear her throat and said, "You know, Mom..." She paused long enough to make eye contact. "Martin is really looking forward to meeting you."

Betsy shifted her upper body to lean back against the armrest and curled her lips upward in a half-smile. "Tell me more about him, sweetheart."

"Well," Sam started. Her glass made a clicking noise as she set it back down on the coaster. "He grew up in Arlington, he graduated from Harvard, got his MBA at U Penn, and then worked in independent financial consulting before he ran for Senate last year..."

"Samantha!" Sam whipped her head towards her mother, who sat staring back with narrow eyes and an imposing expression that only mothers could command. "I know all of that already, you don't think I did my research before I got here?" Betsy edged closer until she could reach out and tilt Sam's chin to re-establish eye contact. "I want you to tell me about _him_, honey."

"Oh." Sam laughed softly in a futile attempt to hide her nerves. It still made her a little bit uncomfortable when she talked about Martin with other people, even people whom she genuinely trusted, because she felt so strongly about what they had and did not want to jinx it. "He's... great," she said finally, smirking at her sudden inability to use semantics. "He's smart, and he's got a great sense of humor. He loves sports and rock climbing and anything by David McCullough." She paused for a beat and clicked her jaw together. "He's close to his family, especially his sisters and his cousins, and he's really nothing like a politician at all."

"He sounds like a good man, Samantha," Betsy remarked with a shrewd smile.

"He is." Sam agreed, turning her head away so as to hide from her mother's knowing eyes. "He's not perfect. Sometimes he's really stubborn and sensitive and quick to judge, but he's..." she stuttered and trailed off, unable to quite put her feelings into words.

"He means a lot to you," Betsy finished, giving Sam the 'mother knows best' look that Sam despised so much when she was a teenager.

Sam curled her lips upward in a smile and turned back to look at her mother, and she found herself suddenly noticing how different her mother looked than the last time she saw her. She was nearly ten years older, of course, but Betsy radiated a calm, comfortable, confident woman in a way that she never had before.

"Mom," Sam whispered, her voice hoarse as she leaned forward to hold her mother's hand and tell her as much. But as she squeezed her mother's left hand in her own right, she felt cold metal against her skin. She held her mother's hand up and cocked her eyebrows. Finding her voice again, she quipped, "I guess we have more to talk about than just me."

"I guess we do," she replied softly. "I've been wondering how to tell you."

Sam smiled back, knowing that she came by her inability to talk about personal matters genetically. "What's the worst that could happen?" She said with a self-deprecating laugh. "If you don't tell me now, you never know... I could find out about it in next week's _People._"

"We wouldn't want that to happen, would we?" Betsy visibly relaxed her posture, a sparkle in her eyes as she said, "A lot has changed since you left home, Sam."

"I can see that," she remarked laughingly, motioning to the simple engagement ring on her mother's left hand.

"His name is Charles," Betsy sat back against the sofa and rubbed one hand over her jaw pensively. "He's a drug rep. We met last year at the hospital."

Sam frowned, confused, and asked, "At the hospital?"

"Yeah." Sam watched as her mother wrung her hands together nervously. She reached her own hand forward, squeezing her mother's hands and encouraging her to continue. Betsy lowered her eyes to the coffee table and said, "I don't think I ever told you, but I when I got pregnant with your sister, I was in nursing school. I always said that I was going to go back when you and Linds got a little older, but then your dad left and I didn't have the time or the money."

Sam shook her head in silent thought, amazed that she knew so little about her mother and her hopes and dreams. Looking at her childhood from another adult's perspective, Sam gained a newfound level of respect for her mother; it could not have been easy to support two small children on only a high school diploma. "I never knew," she whispered in response.

Betsy shivered visibly and explained, "Well, a few years ago I finally had enough saved up to start taking night classes again. Now I work in the ICU at Kenosha Medical Center."

It struck Sam as immensely sad that her mother accomplished such an important life goal and she had not known about it, but she supposed it was for the same reasoning that she had not invited either her mother or sister to her graduation from the FBI Academy. "I'm really proud of you, Mom," she said finally, and it suddenly felt like an understatement. Not wanting to dwell on the past any longer, she changed the subject and asked, "So, when is the wedding?"

"We haven't set a date yet," Betsy replied, standing and making her way towards the kitchen to refill her empty glass. Still standing with her weight against the doorjamb, she added, "Charles refused to set one until I had come to see you, actually."

xx

_"Hi, Betsy."_

_Betsy shut the kitchen door behind her and was immediately greeted by Charles' twenty-three year old son, who was home visiting for the weekend. "Hey, Trent," she smiled and echoed his greeting. "I hear school is going well."_

_"It's going great," he answered, making himself comfortable as he sat down on a stool next to the small island. His long legs dangled down too far, so he propped one foot on the bottom rung of the stool. "Quantum II is going to be rough and my undergrad students in lab aren't what I was expecting, but other than that it should be an easy semester."_

_Betsy gave a small smile and nod. Trent was in his second year of graduate school in physics, and he was studying to eventually get his PhD. Charles was immensely proud of him, in the exact same way Betsy was proud of both Lindsey and Samantha._

_"That's good to hear," she replied, setting her purse down on the counter top. At that moment, she heard the sound of Charles' footsteps pounding down the back stairwell. Within ten seconds, Charles appeared in the kitchen and he walked to where she stood._

_"How was work?" he asked, placing a hand gently on her shoulder._

_"Not too bad." She reached back into her purse and pulled her pack of gum out. She unwrapped a piece and began to chew. Even two years after she quit smoking, she would still get occasional cravings, and she always had gum on hand. "Trent was just starting to tell me about school."_

_"Hey, guys?"_

_Both Betsy and Charles turned around at the sound of Trent's voice, which was muffled as he chewed on a handful of pretzels. They looked at Trent expectantly as he swallowed and said, seemingly out of the blue, "When are you going to actually set a date?" Trent glanced from Charles to Betsy and back again, and said. "I thought you said you'd have one by this weekend, right? I want to give my professors some advance warning."_

_Charles shook his head. "We can't set a date yet."_

_Betsy frowned. "What do you mean, we can't set a date yet?"_

_"I already told you," he said matter-of-factly, rubbing his hand along her back. "We're not even going to set a date until you talk to Samantha." He paused for a beat to look at her, his expression one of gentle care and concern. "You can't have only one of your daughters showing up at the wedding, after all."_

_Betsy sighed long and deep, her chest heavy with trepidation and insecurity. As much as she wanted to see her baby girl again, to see the beautiful young woman she was sure Samantha had grown up to be, she could still see the hateful expression on Sam's face the day the teenager moved out and married Kevin. They barely exchanged messages on birthdays and Christmas now, and as she desperately missed Samantha the way a mother will always miss her child, she had no idea where even to begin._

_"Betsy," Charles began, a slight edge of warning to his voice. "You know that I love you." He nodded and pulled her against his side. "And that is exactly why I know you need to do this."_

xx

"He was right," Betsy finished, lifting her water glass up and taking a long drink as she shuffled back into the living room. "No matter what, I'm glad that I came."

"I'm glad that you came, too," Sam reassured, feeling the sofa dip and rise gently as Betsy sat down again. A thought came to her on impulse, and she suggested, "Maybe sometime soon, I can meet Charles. I haven't been back to Kenosha since I was eighteen; it might be nice to see it again."

"That would be nice," Betsy replied, and Sam could visibly see Betsy try to temper her excitement at this suggestion. It felt good that such a simple suggestion could make her mother so happy. "You know that after your father... Well, I certainly never imagined that I would marry again. But it's funny how you meet someone and they can completely change your mind on the subject."

At this, Sam smiled and propped her bare feet up on the edge of the coffee table. She said nothing, but silently entertained the thought that she might be learning exactly what her mother meant.

xxxxx


	46. Chapter 45

xxxxx

_**chapter forty-five**_

xxxxx

_your mother recognizes all your desperate displays __  
__and she watches as her babies drift violently away __  
__'til they see themselves in telescopes __  
__well listen, do you see yourself in me?_  
-Counting Crows, "Recovering the Satellites"

xx

_11:25 pm_

Martin leaned forward over the sink in Sam's small bathroom and ran his hands under the tap to splash water on his face. He reached blindly to the left side until his hand hit against the cool metal of the towel rack, tugging on one of Sam's washcloths and bringing the soft terrycloth to dry his face. He blinked slowly and opened his eyes. He wiped at the remaining fog on the mirror, the entire room still steamed and muggy from their hot shower earlier, and bent over to pick his towel up off the floor and hang it over the towel rack to dry.

Goosebumps rose rapidly on the skin of his forearms as he stepped back out into the bedroom, reaching back to pull the door shut behind him. He could hear Sam puttering around in her closet, so he shuffled over to the bed, pulling back the duvet and climbing in between the cool sheets. He leaned over to the nightstand, picking up his copy of _Truman_. He turned over on his side and propped his weight on one elbow as he lay down to read while he waited for her to finish getting ready for bed.

He flipped one well-worn page over, eyes skimming the familiar lines as his mind wandered elsewhere. When Sam told him this afternoon that her mother was in town, he had absolutely no idea what to expect, and no past experience at meeting the parents from which to draw.

From everything that Sam told him previously, or rather, the sheer determination with which she avoided the subject of her family at all costs, he did not know whether to expect some senile old woman or a hardened criminal. However, upon actually meeting her, he found Sam's mother to be a wonderful woman, which left him all the more puzzled about the mysterious circumstances that led the Spade family to be so distant from each other. Because from what he had seen, he could not imagine Sam's mother as anything but a kind, generous, involved parent.

xx

_Standing outside of Sam's apartment door, he fumbled through his keys as he tried to find the one she had given him upon their return from the Cape after Labor Day. He felt flustered and a little unsteady on his feet, his knees about to give way as his nerves got the better of him. He had been looking forward to spending some time alone with Sam, but now her mother - whom he knew virtually nothing about - came to town unannounced the night before and he had no idea what to expect._

_Finally clasping the proper key in his fingers, he inserted the tiny key into the lock and rapped gently against the door with his fist before turning the doorknob, not wanting to appear completely unannounced. The doorknob wouldn't budge, however, and he suddenly realized that it must have already been unlocked. He quickly turned the key in the opposite direction and felt the knob give way, and he pushed the door open with ease._

_Upon walking into the living room, however, he found the room completely empty. He dropped his overnight bag by her bedroom door and ambled in towards the noise he heard in the open area of the kitchen. "Sam?" he raised his voice, only to be surprised when the figure tucked behind the refrigerator turned out to be Sam's mother instead. "Oh, I, uh..." he stuttered clumsily, "Sorry."_

_Betsy shook her head with a soft smile and held out her hand. "Hi, Martin. I'm Betsy Spade; I'm Sam's mom."_

_He smiled and took the woman's soft hand in his, trying to be as subtle as possible as he studied her. She was a beautiful woman, and likely at least five years younger than his parents, if not more. He was struck by how young she must have been when Lindsey and Samantha were born. Betsy had short blonde hair that fell just above her shoulders, and bright green eyes that, though a different shade, sparkled in the same manner that Sam's did._

_"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Spade," he said, giving her hand a firm shake before loosening his grip and dropping his hands aimlessly at his sides._

_"Betsy, please," she insisted, giving him a warm smile that lit up her face. "Sam just ran down to the basement to move her laundry into the dryer. We got takeout from the Korean place a few blocks away, and there are plenty of leftovers in the fridge if you want anything." Betsy paused as a loud insistent beeping came from the microwave. She took the few small steps and opened the microwave door, taking out a steaming mug. "Sam put on a fresh pot of coffee, but I can't take that much caffeine this late at night," she explained over her shoulder as she reached into the drawer to pull out a tea bag._

_He shuffled over to the refrigerator and opened the door, the cool air welcome against his face. He pulled out the Styrofoam containers that obviously held the leftovers, and then turned to the side door and asked, "Do you need the milk?"_

_"That would be great, thanks."_

_He grabbed the handle on the milk carton and swung himself around to give it to Betsy, who was currently dipping the tea bag in her hot water. She moved to the kitchen table while he reheated the leftovers in the microwave. The aroma of reheated Korean food began to fill the air, mixing with the lingering smell of the fresh-brewed coffee. He sat down at the table and began to eat as he felt Betsy's eyes on him over the rim of her mug._

_"I can only imagine what Sam must have told you about me," she said apprehensively. "You know that we haven't been close for quite some time now."_

_He nodded and continued to chew silently, sensing that she needed to talk and he would get more out of it if he just listened._

_"When their father left, I was only twenty-five years old. We had barely been able to make ends meet before, and I certainly wasn't bringing in much with only a high school diploma and a semester of nursing school. I had to work two jobs to put food on the table, and I could never really be there for either one of the girls..." Betsy paused, tears forming at the corners of her eyes and her voice shaky. "But they were always okay because they had each other. Things started to change when Lindsey went to high school, and by the time both girls were eighteen, they announced they were moving out and never coming back again." Betsy watched him with sad eyes, and he noticed how small she suddenly appeared. "I'm sure that there are a million things I could have done different to be there for my babies, but I just wanted you to know that, whatever you must think of me... I did the best that I could for my girls. I just wish it could have been enough."_

_"Betsy," he began with uncertainty, "I can't speak for Lindsey, but I can't imagine that Samantha would hold that against you."_

_"You're very sweet, dear," Betsy replied. "But they both have a right to, and if they don't, I will. As parents, you always want to give your children the best of everything, and it always killed me that I couldn't do that for my girls. Trust me," she paused to ensure that he was listening. "One day when you and Sam have children of your own, you will understand."_

_"Sam and I aren't... I mean, we've only..." he stuttered, taken completely by surprise at Betsy's words. He had always wanted a family one day and knew the more time he spent with Sam, the more that "one day" seemed not longer to be so far off in his future, but he found marriage and family a difficult issue to bring up around Sam in spite of her assurance that she imagined him in her future as well. He paused and took a deep breath to steady himself. "I know that I want a family eventually," he said finally. "But Sam and I are still adjusting to everything, and we aren't planning that far into our future yet."_

_"You mean, you don't think Sam is planning that far into __**her**__ future yet. Don't you?" Betsy remarked knowingly. He gave a guilty nod of his head, and she continued, "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Martin. You seem like a good man, and I know my Sam cares about you a great deal. She's just afraid of hoping for too much because she's always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I think if you give her a little time and understanding, she will come around of her own volition."_

_Martin smiled back at her, trying to fully take in her advice as he stood up from the table to clear his plate. In the other room, he heard the apartment door open and shut as Sam called out to her mother._

_"Sorry I took so long, Mom. I had to wait until a dryer opened up."_

_"I'm in here, honey," Betsy replied._

_Martin finished running his plate under the tap water and wiped his hands dry on the dishtowel before quickly walking into the living room to meet her. He found her with her back to him, studying the shelves where she kept her DVDs. "Did you find the tea bags okay?" she asked, clearly sensing his presence at the edge of the room but mistaking him for her mother._

_He walked up behind her and wrapped one arm around her as he said "I found them just fine," and kissed her gently on her temple._

_"Martin!?" she said, startled, and she began to tense up in his arms._

_"Shhh! Relax!" He said gently before she proceeded to get any more anxious than she already was. "It's alright." He turned her around so that she was facing him, and wrapped his arms lightly around her waist. "Your mom is fine; she's still in the kitchen."_

_"And you've already met her, I guess?" she whispered nervously._

_"I told you: relax," he soothed softly. "We're old friends at this point."_

_She glared at him playfully, but laughed as he pulled her closer into his chest. And when she laughed against him, it reverberated throughout his entire being._

xx

He broke from his reverie as he felt the bed dip and rise as Sam crawled in next to him. She lay on her stomach on top of the duvet in her tank top and pajama pants, her upper body propped up on her elbows as she leaned into him.

"You are not seriously reading that again, are you?" she laughed and motioned to his book. "You must have read it a thousand times by now!"

"So what if I am?" he shrugged playfully, closing the book and placing it back on the nightstand with a thud.

"Shouldn't you be reading some ancient philosopher like Plato or Aristotle... or at least John Locke or something?" she teased. She shifted to lie on one side with her elbow beneath her, and he could see her chest rise and fall with each breath that she took.

"I've read them all once, and that's enough," he replied as he sat up against the headboard, bringing the pillow into his lap to ruffle it up. There was a lull in the moment as she seemed content to just lie there peacefully, and he casually remarked, "It's really too bad that your mom has to go back to Wisconsin tomorrow."

"Yeah, it is," she agreed pensively, and he could practically see the wheels in her head turning. "She really does seem happy with her job now, you know. I can't believe I never knew that she'd been in nursing school when she got pregnant with Lindsey."

"You know now, though," he answered, trying to cut into the guilt that he could sense radiating from her.

He leaned over to rub her back, and she remained silent for a few minutes, her eyes fixed on the ceiling in deep thought. "I always blamed her," Sam whispered, her voice breaking. He lay back down and pulled her close against him, sensing she needed reassurance as she spoke. "Lindsey moved in with her boyfriend the second she turned eighteen, and Mom was dead set against it. She wanted Linds to apply for scholarships and go to college. But Lindsey can be more stubborn than I am... and she was determined to move out. I'll never forget what Lindsey said to both of us when she was leaving, and I always blamed Mom for pushing her away."

Sam coughed against him, and he continued to run his hands along her back, trying to knead the taut muscles. "But all she really wanted was for us to have more options in life than she did."

He kissed the top of her head and said, "You have all of those options now, if you want them."

"I'm not even sure what those 'options' are," she said as she nestled her head into his chest, "But I'm thinking more and more that I might want to find out."

xxxxx


	47. Chapter 46

xxxxx

_**chapter forty-six**_

xxxxx

_i know it's been a long road  
to get these fears behind me and i  
will gladly reap what we may sow i am  
there for you and you're there for me_  
-Vertical Horizon, "Heart in Hand"

xx

_September 12, 2003  
4:00 pm_

"Hey you. Big plans this weekend?" Naomi smirked, long dark hair falling in her face as she leaned over Sam's shoulder. The countdown to the end of the week was on, and Sam was trying to finish up her last report before heading out to meet Martin for dinner across town.

Sam laughed and craned her head upward, cocking her eyebrows at Naomi suggestively. "Maybe," she replied.

"Oh come on," Naomi laughed, shifting to lean against the edge of the desk. "I can't live vicariously through you if you don't give me anything to go on. And you ran off before I could snag you for lunch, so I'm going to corner you now."

Sam shook her head bemusedly. "I had lunch with my mom before she had to catch her flight back to Kenosha," she explained. Her mother had a late afternoon flight that day and did not need to be at La Guardia until 2:30, so Sam met her at a small café a few blocks away from the Federal Building to have a late lunch. She was still adjusting to the new woman that Betsy had become, but she found an instant comfort in being able to confide in her mother in a way that she never had before.

xx

_Sam took a long sip of her water and stared across the table to where her mother was eating her salad. Sam put the glass down on the table, ice cubes clinking against the side of the glass, and she said, "So, I was thinking about when I could come to Kenosha to visit." Betsy looked up and nodded her head to signal that she was listening, so Sam continued. "I can't get any time off before Thanksgiving, but I could probably fly down that Wednesday and spend a few days there before I would have to come back."_

_Betsy rewarded her with a smile that could have lit up the entire city. "I would really like that, sweetie, and I know that Charles has been dying to meet you." Betsy paused for a second to chew, working her jaw in deep concentration as her expression fell._

_"What is it?" Sam asked, confused._

_"Nothing," Betsy replied quickly. "I really want you to come, but I think you should know that Lindsey will be there... It's entirely up to you."_

_Sam shrugged, trying to relax her posture and seem nonchalant. "We're going to have to see each other sometime, aren't we? We can't stay mad at each other forever."_

_Betsy smiled and lifted her glass to her lips. "It's good to see how much you've grown, Samantha," she commented. "Lindsey has, too. I can't wait to have my whole family back together again."_

_Betsy reached out across the table to hold her hand, and Sam smiled back at her mother._

_"I really like Martin," Betsy said after a short pause. "He's a good man, Sam; much better for you than Kevin."_

_Sam shrugged, recoiling slightly at the mention of her ex-husband. "I think that much should be obvious," she replied casually._

_"Samantha," Betsy pleaded softly. "You know I didn't mean it like that. All I meant was that he is really good for you. I don't want your past or me or even your father to hold you down. I want you to have all of the good things in this world, Samantha, and he is one of them. He's a good man, an upstanding citizen, and he obviously adores you."_

_Sam lowered her eyes, feeling a flush rise up on her cheeks. She inhaled deeply and whispered, "I'm pretty crazy about him, too."_

xx

Sam and her mother spent the next half hour talking about Martin and Charles and making plans for Thanksgiving. In spite of herself, Sam felt herself feeling excited about going home to Kenosha to visit for the holiday weekend. It had been a long time since she felt so comfortable and happy around her family and, especially after being a part of Martin's family, she did not want that feeling to end.

Naomi tapped Sam on the shoulder twice, staring down at her with a curious gaze and a smirk playing at her lips. "So I take it that your mother's surprise visit went okay, then?" she asked.

"Yeah, it was nice to see her again," Sam answered, leaning back against her chair. "She's getting remarried sometime soon, and she asked me to be in the wedding party. I'm going to Kenosha over Thanksgiving to meet her fiancé."

"Wow," Naomi waved her hand in gesture as she replied. "You Spades don't do anything by halves, do you?"

Sam laughed in spite of herself. "No, not if we can help it."

Her laughter, however, was interrupted by the familiar buzzing of her cell phone. She held her hand up to signal to Naomi that she needed to answer this, flipped open her phone, and hit the 'Talk' button.

"Spade," she answered with her usual monosyllabic work reply.

"Samantha?" the voice on the other end of the line broke softly and sniffled, giving Sam the impression that whomever it was had been crying recently. "It's... it's me, Caroline."

"Caroline?" Sam answered quickly, her heart racing. She did not know what Caroline was calling about, but whatever it was could not be good. "Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

There was silence at the other end of the line, and Sam's heart suddenly stopped racing and instead seemed to dive deep down into her stomach. What could possibly be going on?

"Caroline?" she insisted once again, and she did not care if anyone else was eavesdropping.

"It's..." Caroline's voice broke once again. "You haven't talked to Martin this afternoon, have you?"

"No," Sam replied. "You're really scaring me. What's wrong? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Caroline answered. "It's Aunt Bonnie. She hasn't been feeling well recently, and she went to the doctors to get it checked out. They ran a couple labs that are actually still pending, but she went yesterday for her mammogram and got her answer."

"Oh," Sam whispered, her breath catching in her throat. "Oh Caroline, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say."

On the other end of the line, she could hear Caroline sniffle again and she made out Tim's voice as he asked her if she was alright. "Martin didn't take the news too well," Caroline said finally. "He ran off. I had hoped he went off to find you, but I guess not."

"I haven't heard from him," Sam replied, her mind already working at warp speed to process this new information. She quickly ran through all of the possibilities of where he might be, assuming that he probably wanted to be by himself right now but knowing that being alone was probably the worst thing for him. "I'll let you know if I hear from him though."

"Thanks, Samantha," Caroline answered, sounding defeated and completely numb. "Aunt Bonnie is so important to all of us, but Marty especially... I just worry about him and how he's taking all of this. We still don't know how progressed the cancer is, but her doctors sound hopeful. I'll have a better idea when she lets me read the pathology report."

"Yeah," Sam agreed breathlessly, still trying to grapple with everything Caroline had told her. She knew how much Bonnie meant to Martin's entire family and felt immensely sad having only met the woman a few times. She could not even begin to imagine what Martin and his sisters must be feeling right now, with Bonnie's future suddenly uncertain.

She and Caroline exchanged quiet goodbyes, both promising to call if they talked to Martin, and they ended their call. Sam flipped her phone shut and sank back into her chair in utter defeat.

She knew she would do almost anything for Martin, but this was one case where no matter what she did, she would be absolutely helpless. The only thing she could do was be there for him in whatever capacity he allowed her to be, and that meant she would have to find him first.

xx

_4:45 pm_

After hanging up with Caroline, Sam had raced out of the office with barely so much as a word to her colleagues as to where she was going. She repeatedly tried to reach Martin on his cell phone, which went straight over to voice mail because he had turned it off. She then tried his land line here in New York, which was off the hook. She then knew that he must have gone to his own home to try to escape from the bitter reality or to at least have some time by himself to process Bonnie's diagnosis.

She parked her car behind his in the driveway and waved in the general direction of the secret service agents sitting in the car across the street. She took the front steps two by two and immediately pounded her fist on the front door when she arrived at the top. "Martin!" she called out. "Martin!"

When there was no answer, she pulled out her keys and found the house key he had given her when she gave him a copy of the key to her apartment. The keys clinked together when she finally retrieved the correct one and opened the lock with ease, pushing against the heavy oak front door with her shoulder to open it.

She dropped her keys and her coat at the side of the door, not caring where they landed, and quickly ambled up the stairs and into his room. She found him lying on his side on his bed with his back to the door, and she softly said his name before coming to lie behind him on the bed, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and leaning over to kiss him softly along his hairline. "Caroline told me," she murmured quietly. "I'm so sorry."

He turned over so that he was facing her and released a heavy breath, his eyes red and blotchy from crying. He shook his head in quiet despair, and she had never seen his usually bright and animated face appear so desolate and hopeless. She tugged on his hand and brought him so that his head rested on her shoulder, wrapping both arms around him now. When she kissed the top of his head, the floodgates opened once again and he started to sob in earnest against her.

Sam felt her heart break at the sound of his tears, finally understanding what Vivian once told her a long time ago, when she had first started seeing Jack. Vivian said that when you are really in love you would give up your own happiness if it meant that you could take some of that other person's pain away. At the time, she had nodded politely and told herself that was what she had with Jack, and she had never given Vivian's words another thought. Now, though, Vivian's words came back to her with a new, decisive meaning that she had never been able to grasp before.

But as much as she wanted to do anything to lessen his grief, even just a little, she felt complete and utterly helpless. So she did the only thing she could: she rubbed soothing circles on his back and murmured soft words in his ear, and she held him while he cried.

xxxxx


	48. Chapter 47

xxxxx

_**chapter forty-seven**_

xxxxx

_and you stand at the crossroads  
of highroads and lowroads  
and i've got a feeling it's right_

_if it's real what i'm feeling  
there's no make believing  
of the sounds of the wings  
of the flight_  
-Travis, "Love Will Come Through"

xx

_September 30, 2003  
11:25 pm_

After an hour of watching the Baseball Tonight crew harp on the same three "key facts" over and over again in their postseason preview, Martin sighed in exhaustion and picked up the remote, changing the channel just in time to pick up the end of the 11:00 news.

His chest felt tight and his spirits hung heavy and low after spending the evening with Aunt Bonnie following her chemotherapy treatment this afternoon. Sam was going to come over whenever she finished at work, but she was tied up in a case and had no idea when she would finish up tonight. So instead he found himself sitting in solitude, acutely aware that she was not with him.

Over the last few weeks, she had been such a huge support network for him. He was traveling back and forth to New York even more frequently, wanting to be there for Aunt Bonnie whenever he could, and he did not honestly think he would have found the strength to put his own fear aside to be of any help without her instinctively knowing when he needed to talk about it or when he simply needed to be distracted. Just the night before, they had gone over to Caroline and Tim's for dinner and Sam had, once again, been the force that kept everything - and everyone - from falling apart.

xx

_"Mom! Mom!" Kelsey skipped quickly into the dining and ran right up to Caroline's chair. The little girl was followed quickly by her younger sister and shadow, and both Kelsey and Bridget surrounded their mother, leaning their small bodies against her sides as Kelsey asked impatiently. "Is it time for dessert yet? We're still hungry!"_

_Martin sipped his coffee slowly but still managed to nearly burn his tongue as he watched his sister with her daughters. He did not know how either Caroline or Tim ever said 'no' when they gave the puppy dog eyes they were giving Caroline now._

_Caroline rolled her eyes. "The grown ups need some time to talk and have our coffee," she replied, turning to Kelsey. "But if you're really good and you run upstairs right now and help your sister get ready for bed, I'll warm up a brownie for each of you before it's bedtime."_

_The girls quickly chorused their approval of this plan and scampered off, their footsteps easily heard pounding up the carpeted stairwell._

_Tim laughed. "They really inherited your sweet tooth, Caro," he teased._

_"Oh please," Caroline protested playfully. "I'm nothing compared to Martin when he was little. Aunt Bonnie could have had him cleaning the toilets daily as long as she promised him a snickerdoodle."_

_She stopped short as she realized what she had said, but it was too late. The mood was already instantly dampened._

_Caroline sighed and ran one hand across her face. "Her final pathology reports really look good," Caroline said matter-of-factly. "There was just that one axillary node on the right side, but nothing else."_

_Irritated that his oldest sister once again was hiding behind medical terminology when referring to Aunt Bonnie's prognosis, Martin frowned. "What does that mean?" he snapped._

_"The same thing Dr. Levin basically explained when she had the biopsy last week," Caroline shot back. "She's got a stage I tumor but stage II nodes. She still has a really good prognosis."_

_"You could have just said that," Martin barked in reply._

_He felt Sam reach out for his hand. "Hey, calm down," Sam said quietly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "She's just trying to help. You guys are both on the same side here."_

_It was almost uncanny the way her voice automatically seemed to snap him out of his bad temper._

xx

On the television, the recap of the 11:00 news began to blare in the background, and Martin grabbed the remote and turned the volume up just in time to hear the newscaster mention the same case that Sam was out working on.

_"... The lead agent in the FBI's efforts to locate missing Rockville housewife Doris Lovett has announced he is stepping away from the case and taking a medical leave ..."_

As the reporter went on to recap how Jack Malone was one of the agents who worked the original Rockville Killer cases twelve years previously, Martin considered what Sam had already told him about the case, from how Graham Spaulding was orchestrating the entire copycat act from his prison cell as an act of revenge against Jack Malone to the missing woman's jealous husband. He even hadn't found himself jealous when she mentioned how the rest of the team was really worried about Jack's reaction to the case. Her concern was nothing more than as a friend and a colleague, and he had no reason not to trust her.

After all, Jack was single now and there was nothing that would stop her from going back to Jack if she wanted to, but she chose him instead and that made all the difference.

He shivered and lay back against the sofa cushions; somehow, it didn't seem right to go to bed when she wasn't home yet.

xx

_October 1, 2003  
12:40 am_

Sam sighed heavily as she hung up her desk phone, contorting her face is disgust.

From the second the team got the call about the copycat Rockville killer, to putting the pieces together to find Graham Spaulding orchestrating the entire thing from behind bars, to finding Doris Lovett's body just two hours too late, the case had been nothing short of emotional turmoil for the entire team. The worst part about all of this for her was that she knew Martin spent time with Bonnie after her chemotherapy treatment this afternoon, and she wanted nothing more than to be with him right now so that he would not be alone.

Rising from her chair, she strode across the bullpen and rapped her fist against Jack's closed office door. She turned the knob without waiting for affirmation, and the door creaked open to reveal a very silent, sullen Jack, staring blankly into space in the general direction of the plaques and diplomas hung on the wall.

"Jack?" Sam spoke in a half-whisper, afraid to speak any louder for fear that she would startle him.

He shook his head quickly, whipping his neck around as he registered her voice. "Sam?" he replied. "What is it?" His voice sounded even and calm, but in reality she could hear the defeat that engulfed his entire body. This case had nearly broken him.

"I just got a call from the state prison," she offered cautiously. She waited for him to look up at her, confirmation that he was in fact listening. "Graham Spaulding hung himself in his cell. The guards found him just half an hour ago."

He nodded, his expression blank and numb. "Are Vivian and Naomi still with her husband?"

"Yeah," she breathed. She paused for a beat, then added, "We sent a team into Hoover Bailey's place, but they came up empty. No sign of him. We've put out an APV on his vehicle but nothing yet; DMV is aware that he may have painted it red."

They had only gotten a 15 year sentence on the evidence they accumulated on Graham Spaulding in the Andy Deaver case, mainly the photographs Naomi found during the search of his home and the testimony of Patrick McCullough, the other office aide from the Spaulding Academy. Spaulding spent months in the prison library researching about Jack in an attempt to get his revenge, and he found the perfect case with which to do so: the case of the Rockville killer, who tortured, raped and killed five women twelve years previously.

Unable to carry out his plan on his own from behind bars, he bounded with Hoover Bailey, a psychologically unstable fellow inmate who was easily convinced to do Spaulding's bidding upon his release from prison. Spaulding, of course, had not counted on Bailey being so unstable and getting a little carried away. Bailey screwed up his last meeting with Randy Thorton, the original Rockville killer, and in a panic, had killed Doris ahead of the scheduled plan.

"Even when we do find him," Jack said, his eyes fixed again on the plaques and framed diplomas that lined his wall, "It's always just a little bit too late."

Jack spoke with such a subtle forlorn look in his eyes that Sam suspected had heavily to do with his mother's death, although she did not know the specifics of her suicide.

"We can only do so much, Jack," she replied quietly, folding her arms protectively across her chest. She could sense that Jack was extremely needy right now, and she knew it was not appropriate given his emotional state to get too close.

"It's not enough," he commented, not aiming his comment at her specifically, but at the world in general. He repeated, "It's never enough."

"Sometimes," Sam countered, trying to sound more comforting and less argumentative, "it has to be." Sam felt suddenly very uncomfortable and shuffled back towards the office door. With one hand on the doorknob, she bit her bottom lip thoughtfully and turned back around. "Listen, Jack," she began, holding off until he made eye contact, "I know that you're going through a lot right now between Maria and," she paused for a beat before emphasizing, "all of _this_, and we haven't been the greatest of friends recently. But I want you to know that we _are_ still friends if you need something."

She was definitely worried about Jack's psyche at the moment, and she was certain she wasn't the only one of the team who was likewise concerned. Jack had been sullen and withdrawn for several months now, and tonight was the worst she had ever seen him. She was used to his dark disposition, but his depressed affect tonight was downright worrisome.

"Thanks, Sam," he replied finally. "I don't feel like going straight back to an empty place just yet, so I could give you a ride back downtown if you want," he offered.

Sam chewed her bottom lip harder, feeling her heart sink somewhere deep into her chest. "Thanks, but uh, I drove to work this morning," she stuttered awkwardly. As an afterthought, she added, "And I'm not going back downtown tonight."

"Oh, right," he replied, his expression now not only depressed but crestfallen. "Of course you're not."

"Goodnight, Jack," Sam answered quickly and made her way out of his office, shutting the door firmly behind her.

She gathered up her things and left the office. Jack stood and wistfully watched her leave out of the corner of his eye, but she did not give him a second thought.

xxxxx


	49. Chapter 48

xxxxx

_**forty-eight**_

xxxxx

_my red is so confident that he flashes  
trophies of war and ribbons of euphoria  
orange is young, full of daring  
but very unsteady for the first go around  
my yellow in this case is not so mellow  
in fact i'm trying to say it's frightened like me  
and all these emotions of mine keep holding me from  
giving my life to a rainbow like you_  
-John Mayer, "Bold as Love"

xx

_December 1, 2003  
8:55 am_

Sam leaned back in her desk chair and brought her coffee mug to her lips, sipping the warm liquid contentedly in spite of her exhaustion. Her connecting flight out of Detroit last night had been delayed, causing her layover in the airport to be extended far longer than she anticipated, but in spite of her late arrival in New York last night, Sam knew the trip to Kenosha had been worth her time.

Her mother's fiancé Charles seemed to be a polar opposite of what she remembered of her father. Charles was tall and lanky, with red hair and green eyes. He raised his son Trent on his own after his first wife died suddenly in a car accident when Trent was only sixteen months old, and he seemed genuinely interested in both Lindsey and herself. As someone who had neither seen nor heard from her biological father in over twenty-five years, the fact that Charles cared enough to ask about her work and her life in New York meant more than she could put into words.

Her real worry going into this weekend, however, had been what would happen when she saw her older sister Lindsey for the first time in over twelve years. She had no idea what to expect, and at first it had definitely been awkward and uncomfortable. But Thanksgiving night after the table had been cleared and the dishes washed, Lindsey approached her as she sat out on the back porch of her mother's new home and they began the slow but steady process of reconciliation.

xx

_Behind her, Sam heard the back door of the house creak open and shut again. She craned her neck around and saw her sister Lindsey's form come into view in the corner of her eye. The plastic deck chair scraped against the wood surface of the porch as Lindsey pulled the chair closer, sitting down and pulling her knees up to her chest much like they had often done when they were children together sitting outside on the picnic tables in the trailer park._

_"Hey, Sammy," Lindsey said softly, running one hand through her long dirty blonde hair._

_"Hey, Linds." She coughed, suddenly unable to find her voice._

_"Remember how you used to beg Mom to take you out to catch fireflies every night?" Lindsey gestured broadly towards the darkness that spanned across the yard. "We were both so afraid of the dark, but you were the only one who ever did anything about it."_

_Sam smiled almost inadvertently, remembering the days when she would beg her mother for five more minutes outside and enough time to catch just a few fireflies to light their room at night._

_"We used to be so close," Lindsey whispered, her breath catching and her voice full of emotion. "I'm sorry I changed that." Lindsey paused for a moment, but Sam sensed she still had something she needed to get out. Lindsey closed her eyes and lowered her face. "I didn't really mean what I said the day I moved out, you know."_

_Sam frowned, not particularly wanting to dwell on the harsh, accusatory words that she felt were best left in the past. "I do now," she replied._

_"I mean it." Lindsey leaned forward and the chair creaked beneath her. "I was pissed off at life in general and I took it out on you and Mom, and I shouldn't have. And then I apologized to Mom years ago, but I always kept putting off coming to you."_

_Sam chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip and brought her knees up to her chest, mimicking the sitting position that her sister was in. "You left me alone with Mom," she replied. Tilting her neck until she met Lindsey's eyes, she repeated the sentiment, "I had nobody after you left."_

_"I know, and I'm sorry." Lindsey reached out and tentatively ran one hand along Sam's forearm. Dropping her hand back to her side nervously, she offered, "I was hoping that we could work on being friends again, and maybe someday you can forgive me?"_

_Lindsey gave her a half smile, one eyebrow cocked, and it was all Sam could do to fight laughter at the goofy look on her sister's face. She thought long and hard, remembering how much she used to rely on her sister and how more and more, seeing Martin and his sisters and cousins together made her miss that closeness she and Lindsey used to share. And she had her answer._

_"I think we can work on that," she released a soft laugh. She threw her shoulders back and moistened her lips with her tongue. "I'm still mad at you though," she added._

_"That's your prerogative," Lindsey agreed, then added, "Besides, you wouldn't be a true Spade woman if you gave up on a grudge that easily."_

_Sam nodded, her head to one side. "That's true," she agreed._

_They both laughed._

xx

Things were not perfect between herself and Lindsey yet, but they were well on their way to rebuilding their relationship. Lindsey had moved to Columbus, Ohio several years prior and now taught English at a university. They promised to exchange emails and phone calls more frequently, and Lindsey even suggested that she come to New York to visit sometime during the universities long winter break.

Sam actually was not sure, from the times they had spoken on the phone, whether she or Martin happened to be more pleased with the way her weekend in Kenosha and reconciliation with her family had gone.

Sam turned around as she heard the door of Jack's office open and jar shut again. Jack strode purposefully towards her and threw his shoulders back as he said, "We had better get moving if we want to talk to Janine's manager before the store opens at 10:00."

"Okay." Sam ran one hand through her hair and stretched her arms as she rose from her desk. She tilted her neck to one side and studied his posture. "How was your Thanksgiving?" she asked.

"It was fine," he said, raising his hand in a dismissive fashion. He absent-mindedly adjusted the lapel on his suit jacket and said, "I had Kate and Hanna for the day, so I took them out for dinner. I wanted to make sure that they had a nice time."

Sam smiled. "You mean that you wanted to make sure they actually had something decent to eat?"

Jack grinned back sheepishly. "Guilty as charged." He began to make his way towards the elevators, but paused for a moment and motioned for her to step in front of him. "Maria always handled all of that," he added, his tone somewhat wistful and apologetic.

Sam stretched out her arm and depressed the elevator call button. Turning back to Jack and catching his eyes she said, "I'm glad you and the girls had a good time together this weekend."

"We did," he agreed. Sighing heavily, he added, "Of course, because Maria and I agreed to trade off on holidays, this means that she has them for Christmas."

"That's too bad." Sam folded her arms close to her chest.

"It's best for the girls this way," he commented, clenching his jaw with a frown. "At least Maria and I could settle everything outside of court."

Unsure of how to respond to this, Sam nodded solemnly and remained silent. She knew that Jack and Maria had settled everything between themselves but, having neither the time nor interest in the details of Jack's divorce settlements, she knew very little of the specifics outside of the few mentions Jack made of the weekends he had custody of Hanna and Kate.

The ding of the elevator announced its arrival, and the doors slid open. Sam stepped inside the empty elevator car and leaned back against the wall opposite from Jack.

"I guess it's not really a problem that I don't have the girls for Christmas though," Jack added as he pressed the button for the parking garage and the elevator car began its descent. "Even if we're never needed, someone has to take call and it might as well be me since I have nowhere else to be."

Sam lowered her eyes as Jack said this in an effort to avoid his intense stare. She was well accustomed to the self-deprecation in Jack's tone; he frequently used similar tactics when trying to draw information out of suspects. And while she was trying to be more open with her colleagues and friends about her relationship with Martin, she felt it was neither the appropriate time nor place to discuss with Jack her plans to spend the Christmas holiday in Washington with Martin and his family. And furthermore, she did not feel entirely comfortable sharing the details of her current relationship with her former lover.

While she did worry about Jack and the dark melancholy that seemed permanently settled over him these days, it was not - and had never been - her place to be the one to "save" him like she once thought it had been. The only person who could fix Jack was Jack himself; finally settled with this knowledge, Sam found it far easier to be just his friend and colleague. She had new priorities now, and she found all this simultaneously confusing and exhilarating.

And she was not the only person who seemed to notice the changes that had come over her recently.

xx

_Sam leaned forward against the iron railing, hair falling in her face as she gazed down at the city below. She felt a sense of calm settle over her, content with the outcome of their last case: a young businessman had disappeared from his office at the Wall Street Stock Exchange just three days before his wedding, and they managed to track him down to one of the local hospitals quickly. The young man was a new onset diabetic who did not yet have his insulin regimen under control; he had simply passed out while on his lunch break and, having dropped his wallet, was not able to be identified by the paramedics. She and Vivian had been at the hospital when he was reunited with his fiancée, and the happy reunion struck a chord deep within her. They rarely had cases with such good outcomes that she could not help herself._

_After all, she learned early on in her time in Missing Persons that you have to relish the happy endings because they are few and far between._

_"I thought I might find you out here."_

_Sam's head whipped around as she heard the click of heels and Vivian joined her outside on the balcony._

_"Do we have a new case already?" Sam frowned. She had been hoping the rest of the day would be quiet so that she could slip out early; Caroline had called her up and invited her to dinner, and she wanted to go. It had been a few weeks since she had seen Martin's oldest sister, and she found herself thoroughly enjoying their friendship. It was another link she had to Martin since they were so often separated._

_"No, nothing new has come in yet. Thank God." Vivian smiled and strode over to Sam's side. "Today has been a good day; I don't want to jinx it."_

_"Definitely." Sam smiled, agreeing easily. "We don't have enough days like today. It's encouraging to think the world isn't completely full of criminals and psychopaths."_

_Vivian laughed. "And even then, it's not so often that we get to reunite people who actually want to be together. Usually when someone's running away, it's for a reason."_

_"Elizabeth was so worried he had gotten cold feet," Sam commented, remembering how the fiancée broke down in tears considering the possibility that their missing person, Daniel, wanted to back out of the wedding. She frowned, contemplating the many references to marriage that had risen in her life recently. First Martin, asking about her first husband and confirming her suspicions that he saw marriage as something in his future. Then her mother, meeting someone after all these years and preparing to spend the rest of her life with him. Finally this case, their missing person and his fiancée. It seemed the entire world was pressuring her into reconsidering something she firmly swore never to be a part of._

_The biggest problem was, though, she was not entirely sure what she felt anymore._

_Turning to Vivian, she asked, "How do you do it?"_

_"Do what?" Vivian replied, eyebrows raised curiously._

_"Marriage. Balancing out being a wife, a mother, and an agent? Isn't it exhausting?"_

_"Sure. But it isn't a bad exhaustion." Off of Sam's confused expression, Vivian explained, "I was only 23 when I married Marcus. It's a big commitment to promise to love someone 'until death do us part,' but it's also the most rewarding thing I've ever done. This --" she motioned behind them to the office, "is all secondary. But I'm a better agent and a better person because I have Marcus and Reggie in my life."_

_"And it doesn't scare you, to know everything that can happen to Reggie that you have no control over?"_

_"It terrifies me," Vivian replied without hesitation. "But I can't let that fear run my life. Being a parent is all about being terrified that you're doing everything wrong, but loving your kid so unconditionally that you have to try anyway. There's no love more pure than the love of a mother for her child."_

_"What about Marcus?" Sam asked, feeling a sudden, unexplained rush of adrenaline pouring through her bloodstream. "How did you know so young that he was the one for you, for the rest of your life?"_

_"I don't mean to sound cliché," Vivian said. "But you just know. It feels different than with anyone else because you're both on the same wavelength." She paused, tilting her head to meet Sam's eyes. "I think I felt pretty similar to what you're feeling now, Samantha. You wear happiness extremely well."_

xxxxx


	50. Chapter 49

xxxxx

_**chapter forty-nine**_

xxxxx

_and my aim's never been good  
but my arrow to the moon  
is so close it scrapes the sides_

_we don't fall into love  
it slips from the cabinet  
and falls into us_  
-Trespassers William, "Cabinet"

xx

_December 2, 2003  
Washington DC  
4:00 pm_

" ... so in conclusion, I do think that this new plan will make more cost-effective healthcare available to the American public by enabling us to target the demographics with the largest needs." Martin forced a smile at the middle-aged female reporter who stood across from him on the Senate steps. Committee had closed sessions early for the day, but he had a few things he needed to finish up in his office. Unfortunately, he had been cornered by an over-eager reporter and had been answering her questions for the past ten minutes.

"Of course, Senator, Sir," she agreed enthusiastically, her overdone foundation cracking as she smiled cheerily.

Martin cast a desperate glance to his side, silently begging Rick Harvey to intervene. Rick read his nonverbal cue and stepped down to shake the reporter's hand. "Thank you very much for your interest in Senator Fitzgerald and his policies," Rick said, his tone completely professional but amused exasperation evident in his facial expression. "But unfortunately the Senator is a very busy man, and he has some business that he must attend to now."

"Absolutely," the reporter closed her legal pad and slid it into her jacket pocket. "One more quick question if it's not too much trouble, though?"

Martin nodded in silent trepidation.

"I know a lot of us were looking forward to finally meeting your young woman at some of the Capital Hill festivities this past weekend; we were extremely disappointed when she was not there." The reporter paused to smile, and Martin tried not to stare at the pink mark on her teeth where her lipstick had obviously gone astray. In a tone of voice no different than when she had posed questions about his votes in regard to the Middle East, she focused her eyes and asked, "There isn't anything new to report in your personal life, is there?"

Martin frowned; he had been worried about this. He had been thrilled when Sam told him that she was planning to spend Thanksgiving reconnecting with her mother and the rest of her family, even though he certainly missed her company and her presence as he went through the motions of the annual Capital Hill festivities and spent the holiday weekend with the rest of his family. And he had certainly been willing to live with that sacrifice after her suggestions that she join him in Washington for the entire Christmas holiday.

xx

_Martin stretched out his arms and flicked his wrists, as thought it might somehow dislodge the dull ache that seemed to have settled there. He glanced with a sigh at the stack of congratulatory certificates he had still to sign: letters of achievement for the most recent group of Girl Scouts who received their Gold Awards. At least he was almost finished._

_He picked up his pen and reached for the next certificate when he heard a knock at his door._

_"Senator Fitzgerald?" Beverly's voice carried in as the office door cracked open slightly. "Miss Spade is on the phone for you. She wanted to know if this was a bad time?"_

_"Of course not," he answered with a smile. He lowered his eyes to the stack of certificates to avoid Beverly's knowing gaze and he said, "Go ahead and transfer her to my line."_

_"Of course, Sir," Beverly nodded._

_The door creaked shut again, and he glanced at the small flashing button on his desk phone that signaled that Sam's call was on Line B._

_  
He lifted the receiver to his ear and answered, "Hey."_

_"Hey, Martin," Sam's voice replied. "This isn't a bad time?"_

_"Of course not," he said without hesitation. Sometimes she worried entirely too much about interrupting him when she called his office; he usually had a good idea of when he would be tied up and would warn her accordingly. "And you really don't have to bother with calling Beverly first; you can just call my cell phone."_

_"I tried that first, stupid; but _someone_ turned their cell off," she laughed teasingly, and it sounded so vivid that he could almost see the playful look on her face._

_He frowned, confused, and checked the pocket of his suit jacket. Sure enough when he located his cell phone, he saw that it had been turned off. "Oh, sorry," he replied, laughing along with her. "I think I forgot to plug it back in to the charger after I talked to you last night. So that means it has to be your fault somehow."_

_On the other end of the line, he heard Sam scoff laughingly._

_"So, anyway," he paused to transfer the receiver to his other hand. "What's going on with you?"_

_The line went silent for a few moments, and he was just beginning to wonder if they had been disconnected when he heard her breathe heavily. "I just got off the phone with my mom," she said softly. "She asked me if I wanted to come back to Kenosha for Thanksgiving."_

_"And?"_

_"And what?" She sighed, and her voice was uneven. "I told her I'm not sure yet."_

_"I think you should go," he answered without hesitation. "It will be good for you. You can meet her fiancé, right? If they're going to get married in February, you should really meet him before the wedding."_

_"That's true," she agreed. "It's just... it's been a long time since I left. I'm not sure if I'm ready to go back."_

_"You are," he said confidently. He knew she was building this up in her head to be far bigger than it actually was, and the more she tried to think logically about it, the more she would exaggerate it and blow it out of proportion. "You haven't been to Kenosha since you were eighteen years old, right?" he paused, taking her silence on the other end of the line as confirmation. "Even though I know you're not sure about it, I think you'll be happy that you went. I know you have a lot of questions, and the only way you're going to get answers is to start asking."_

_He held his breath, worried that he had upset her somehow when he was only trying to be encouraging. Finally, he heard her voice waiver as she answered, "You're right, I know. I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be sorry," he leaned back in his chair, pushing the stacks of papers on his desk to one side. He felt markedly more relaxed. "I just want to help."_

_"No, no," she uttered softly. "It's just that I know we had talked about me coming down to Washington for Thanksgiving since it's a long weekend."_

_"That's alright; I think that you should go to Kenosha." The thought had not crossed his mind, and although he did feel disappointed, that was secondary. "This is more important. We'll have other weekends."_

_"Well..." she began. He could hear the thoughtful tone in her voice; she was forming a plan. "What about if I just took the week between Christmas and New Years off?" She paused for a beat, but he did not want to interrupt her train of thought. When she began again, her voice picked up in both speed and tone. "I still have a lot of vacation time coming to me, and I could spend the week with you in DC."_

_Martin smiled to himself. He was glad she was several states away because otherwise he would be sure she could hear his heart pounding in his chest. "That would be great." After a few moments' comfortable silence, he recognized a female voice in the background. He felt his heart swell inexplicably when he heard Sam explain who she was on the phone with and that she would only be another second, embracing his primitive instincts to be identified as the significant person in her life._

_"That was just Naomi," Sam explained to him. "She says 'hi,' by the way."_

_He smiled. "You can tell her I say 'hi,' too." He heard conspiratorial laughter on the other end of the line and raised his eyebrows accordingly. "What's going on over there?" he asked._

_"Oh, nothing," Sam replied, laughter still evident in her voice. "Naomi just has a question for you."_

_"Okay..."_

_"When the Giants are playing the Redskins, who do you root for?" she asked._

_He inhaled, tapping his free hand along the edge of his desk. He was not sure how Sam managed to do it, but her Special Agent training could make her more intimidating than any reporter he ever met. She could turn even the most innocent answer into something incriminating if he did not answer carefully. So he laughed, and replied, "Easy. I root for whoever's playing the Cowboys and whoever's playing the Eagles."_

_Sam laughed; she knew almost nothing about the NFL. "Naomi says you passed. That is an acceptable answer."_

_"That's good," he replied. "Since this is such serious business."_

_"Oh, it is," she breathed._

_The fact of the matter was, though, that everything with her seemed that way._

xx

Shaking himself from the memory, he was met by the expectant eyes of the reporter. He carefully tried to catch a glimpse of the name of her publication, printed on the side of her shoulder bag. Unable to fully read the printed monogram, he simply chose to work under the assumption that her media outlet was not as reputable as she would have had him believe, and instead chose not to fully indulge her curiosity. "My personal life," he began in a firm voice, "is exactly as the title would suggest: personal. And Samantha's presence or lack thereof is no one's concern but our own." He paused for emphasis, "But since you're asking, she spent the holidays back home with _her_ family, and the rest of your friends and colleagues who are so eager to meet her, will have the opportunity to do so at a later date."

Without another word, Martin resumed his descent of the Senate steps with Rick at his heels. Behind him, the reporter called out "And when will that be?" but Martin thought it better off to ignore her. In his experience, many of his colleagues had lived to regret comments made to the media regarding their personal lives, and he found himself much better off to limit such comments to the bare minimum. Furthermore, society seemed to feed off of gossip and hearsay and to give them any ammunition would only cause problems for Sam and himself.

And this was far too important to him to risk losing over something as trivial as fabrications and rumors.

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	51. Chapter 50

xxxxx

_**chapter fifty**_

xxxxx

_i need a place where i can make my bed  
a lover's lap where i can lay my head  
'cause now the room is spinning  
the day's beginning_  
-Keane, "Atlantic"

xx

_December 23, 2003_  
_6:30 pm_

Martin settled back into his chair, reaching underneath the table to clasp Sam's hand in his. Outside the restaurant window the rest of 36th Street fell dark and cold, but inside, Martin felt warm and content. Sam arrived in Washington earlier that afternoon, along with Caro, Tim and the girls. Rebecca and her husband Scott would not get into town until the following morning, but Martin's parents had wanted to take them out to dinner and Maeve, who had been both nanny and housekeeper for the Fitzgerald's for as long as Martin could remember, had volunteered to watch Kelsey and Bridget for the evening.

Sam turned to smile at him and her thumb caressed the back of his hand. He was glad they decided to come here: this was a quiet, intimate restaurant tucked away in a mainly residential neighborhood, but it also happened to be a restaurant that was frequented by many politicians and important members of Capital Hill society. His presence was, therefore, nothing out of the ordinary, and Martin saw how much it eased Sam's comfort level immensely that they did not have to go through the entire dinner feeling every restaurant patron's eyes glued to them.

Even in spite of the fact that he was more used to the attention, he had to admit that it was a relief to be able to have a relatively quiet, uninterrupted meal out with his family and his girlfriend. Although he was glad that he and Sam were being more open now, having disclosed their relationship to the public, there was still a large part of him that wanted to keep this aspect of his life as private as possible. After announcing his intent to run for the open Senate seat just two years prior, he had not dated seriously. He had the occasional date to an obligatory social function as his campaign managers deemed it inappropriate for him to appear at said functions stag; it would cast him in a negative light if he did not at least seem interested in settling down with a family at some point. But with Sam everything was different, particularly after getting the chance to meet her mother; at times when he would get insecure about how Sam saw their future differently than he did, he recalled her mother's reminder to wait patiently for her to realize what she really wants for the future.

Sam squeezed his hand affectionately before returning her attention across the table as his father finished relating a story from the previous week at work, when he had been called into an investigation of the Atlanta office where a few higher level agents had been embezzling money from government funds. He wondered, as he often did, what the significance of his father's long-winded tale was until he heard Sam begin to laugh under her breath.

"Wait," she said, her eyes sparkling with her laughter. His father looked up, puzzled, and made eye contact with her. She smirked, "When you say Talbot Morrison, you don't mean Old Man Morrison who used to teach at the Academy, do you?"

"Old Man Morrison?" Victor narrowed his eyes as he repeated himself. "Well, he did used to teach at Quantico up until a few years ago. Did you have him?"

Sam nodded, still chuckling. "Yeah, I did. He must be pushing 75 by now; I'm just surprised he's not senile." Sam paused and glanced up as though to gage his reaction, then remarked, "I don't remember much about his class though. I had him first after our 6:00 AM drills, so my mind was usually still back in bed."

Martin glanced bemusedly back between Sam and his father as Victor chuckled. "It's good to know things haven't changed _that_ much since my days at Quantico," Victor replied.

At this Martin tilted his head to look at his older sister who was, in turn, grinning back at him. Caroline winked, and he shrugged his shoulders. For years now, his parents had been suggesting women it would be suitable for him to date that he had always assumed that when he found someone he cared enough about to introduce to them, they would balk at the idea of him dating someone who had not been pre-approved. On the contrary, it seemed they had fallen for Samantha just as easily as he had, and it had been just a week previously when his mother had made sense of this for him.

xx

_Martin glanced up from the editorial he was reading on stem cell research as he heard his front doorbell ring. Shifting off of the sofa, he shuffled over to the door and glanced to the screen from the security cameras his mother insisted he have installed. Seeing none other than his mother in the doorway, he quickly turned the bolt and opened the door to let her in._

_"Hi, Mom," he stepped back as cold air rushed inside._

_She quickly entered the foyer and shut the door behind her. "Hi, Martin," she offered him a small smile. "I'm sorry to stop by so late, but your father had to go out of town suddenly. He called me from Dulles on his way to Atlanta."_

_Martin nodded and put a hand on his mother's shoulder as they made their way back into his living room. Especially now that he, Caroline, and Becca were grown and gone, he knew how lonely his mother could get when his father was out of town on business for the Bureau. "Do you want me to get you anything?" he motioned toward the kitchen. "Coffee? Tea? Water?"_

_"I'm fine, thank you," she answered with a nod of her head. "When does Samantha get in next week?"_

_"She's actually flying in with Caro, Tim and the girls," he replied. He smiled; it had been over a month since he had last been able to see her, and the next week could not come soon enough._

_"Perfect." She said, "Your father and I wanted to take you all out to dinner. Maeve agreed to stay with Kelsey and Bridget for the night."_

_"Uh, sure," he breathed. "I'll have to let Sam know, but I think that should be fine."_

_Lydia smiled at her son. "Great. You know, Martin, both your father and I are really glad that she will be joining us for Christmas." Lydia glanced up, but Martin remained silent. "It's good that you have someone in your life now." Martin frowned. "Martin?" she asked, cocking her eyebrows. "Are you alright?"_

_"Yeah, I'm fine."_

_"Really?" Lydia raised one eyebrow sarcastically. "Because the way I see it, I think you're holding something back from me because you're afraid your father and I will judge her." Martin lowered his eyes, and his mother took that as confirmation as she prompted, "Look at me, Martin."_

_He shrugged. "You and dad always had so much to say about who I should or shouldn't be taking to this even or that event... I just figured that you wouldn't want me to 'expose myself to the scandal of dating someone so below me.'" He rolled his eyes, his tone soft but mocking._

_"Give us a little credit, son," she answered. "We may not have always been the parents that you ... want us to be," Lydia leaned across the table to tilt her son's head back in her direction, gently forcing eye contact. "But I need you to know that your father and I always wanted the best of everything in this world for you and your sisters. Samantha is a good woman, and she makes you happy. That is more than enough for me."_

_Martin exhaled softly. "Thank you," he replied. "I really did need to hear that."_

_Lydia smiled warmly. "I think your father is secretly pleased that he can talk shop with Samantha. You may want to warn her to refresh her memory on whatever the latest Bureau policy updates are," she teased._

_"I'll keep that in mind," he laughed, folding his hands across his lap._

_"Really, though," Lydia added. "You should thank your older sister. She talked sense into your father when he fought her tooth and nail about the Peace Corps, and he really learned his lesson after that."_

_Martin laughed quietly, but he still shuddered inwardly at the memory of his middle sister Rebecca's stubbornness against his father's iron will. He was four years Rebecca's junior and had been a senior in high school when Rebecca was a senior in college. He could still remember how loud and heated the arguments got when Rebecca came home for winter break announcing that she was going to see her doctor to have preliminary physical done for her Peace Corps application. Martin shook his head quickly and remarked, "That didn't turn out all bad, though, did it? After all, she met Scott there."_

_Lydia smiled back. Rebecca and Scott had been close friends during their time in the Peace Corps, but after they returned to the US, they went their separate ways. Rebecca was a free spirit and far more interested in saving the world than settling down, but after running into Scott again by chance in Chicago five years later, he admitted that he always liked her and that was it. Just ten months later they were married._

_"Speaking of Rebecca and Scott," Lydia remarked. "I wonder what their 'big surprise' is. I don't suppose you know, do you...?"_

xx

Martin did, in fact, know exactly what Rebecca and Scott's 'big surprise' was, but he had explicit instructions not to tell his parents and held his tongue. Almost a year ago, Rebecca confided in him that she and Scott were looking into international adoption. Rebecca chose to keep this information from their parents for fear of their reaction, instead deciding that it would be much easier to sell the idea to Victor and Lydia Fitzgerald once the children were actually legally their grandchildren. Martin knew how narrow and restrictive his parents' worldviews often came across, but at the same time, he knew the second they laid eyes on their new grandchildren, all harsh or disapproving thoughts would immediately dissolve.

That same day his mother stopped by unexpectedly was the day he got a message from Rebecca announcing their return home after a three week stay in Russia. He was now the proud uncle of seven month old twins, Alex and Natalie, and he could not wait to see them in person when they arrived in town tomorrow. Rebecca had sent pictures of course, and he had been silently thrilled that she included Sam's email along with his and Caroline's.

Underneath the table, he felt Sam's hand run along his thigh. She tilted her head to one side and gave him a deep, penetrating look, her eyes silently questioning what was on his mind.

He mouthed 'later' as he squeezed her hand affectionately; she smiled.

He beamed back and relaxed in his seat, taking a sip from his wine glass. He felt completely content in the knowledge that tomorrow night he would have his entire family back in one place again.

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	52. Chapter 51

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_**chapter fifty-one**_

xxxxx

_just you and me__  
__on this island of hope__  
__a breath between us could be miles_

_let me surround you__  
__my sea to your shore__  
__let me be the calm you seek_  
-Sarah McLachlan, "I Love You"

xx

_December 24, 2003  
10:10 am_

Sam awoke the next morning to the steady sound of Martin's heart beating as she lay comfortably with her head against his bare chest. She yawned quietly as she began to rouse from a sound sleep, but quickly settled back down against Martin, clinging to the last vestiges of rest.

The previous day had been exhausting from start to finish, and Sam was glad that she and Martin had managed to slip back to his place after dinner with his parents and his sister's family. As much as she was glad she had gone home to Kenosha over the Thanksgiving holiday, that resulted in it having been weeks since she and Martin last had the chance to see each other. Though she always missed him when they were apart, she was much more used to two and three week intervals; after five weeks, it seemed like an eternity. Her libido was in overdrive from the second she saw him waiting for them at Dulles.

She had never before been in a relationship with a man who was so sexually compatible but who also connected with her on an emotional level outside of the bedroom. She thought that emotional connection had been there when she was with Jack, but that turned out to be more of an ephemeral whim. He was her friend and her boss, but she had been mistaken for reading any true feelings of love into their affair. And he had made certain she was aware of that when he ended it.

She inhaled deeply, dispelling thoughts of her ex-lover from her mind and settling back down comfortably against Martin's chest. This was solid and real and comfortable, and there was no point in dwelling on the past when she was here in his arms.

Beneath her, Martin shifted and began to rouse from sleep, and she leaned over him and began trailing kisses along his jaw line as he awoke. Propping herself up on one elbow, she whispered, "Good morning."

"Mmmm," he groaned, rubbing sleepily at his eyes with his free hand. His eyes squinting open until they met hers, clear and blue and deep as he smiled, "Good morning."

Sam rotated her neck, working the kinks out. She settled back down against Martin; outside the bed the air was cool against her bare skin, but she felt warm and content between the comforter and Martin's torso. She sighed contentedly and said, "What time did we tell your parents we'd be over for dinner tonight?"

She felt Martin shift slightly beneath her as he tilted his neck forward, allowing him to kiss the top of her head. "Not until 5:00 tonight. That gives us time to settle in over there before Becca and Scott's plane lands at Reagan."

She paused for a moment to think about this, running one hand alongside of his rib cage in a soothing back and forth motion. "And they really haven't told your parents about the twins yet?"

"No, they haven't." Sam watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he frowned, deep in thought. "I can't say I really blame them. My father and Becca have rarely ever seen eye to eye on anything: school, life, family. With the adoption being such an involved process, I think she just wanted to take the added stress of Dad's disapproval out of the equation, knowing that as soon as they had the twins, Mom and Dad would fall in love with them the same way they did with Kelsey and Bridget."

"Makes sense," she agreed, stretching her arms out and sitting up in bed. She shivered as she leaned her upper body back against the headboard, and wiped the last remaining vestiges of sleep from her eyes. One quick glance at the clock and she was aware that it would be hours before they even had to think about getting out of bed and getting ready for dinner with his parents. With an impish grin and a glint in her eyes, she shifted and climbed over until she was straddling him. She leaned forward, her long blonde locks falling across his face as she supported her upper body on her elbows.

She kissed him long and deep, grinding her hips into him as she felt his early morning erection harden. When she finally pulled away, breathless, the bedroom air suddenly did not seem so cool anymore. Her eyes darkened and narrowed with desire as she whispered seductively in his ear. "So, how does spending the entire morning in bed with me sound?"

"Mmmm," he hummed appreciatively as she ran her index finger over the sensitive patch of skin just below his Adam's apple. Then suddenly he sat up in bed, grasping both of her hands firmly in his as he forced her to straddle his lap. Kissing her just beside her ear he murmured, "As wonderful as that sounds, I have other plans for us today."

Before she even had a chance to respond, he threw back the comforter, and the bed dipped and rose as he hopped out. She cocked a questioning eyebrow, taking the chance to admire his nude form in front of her.

He held his hands out to her, and she shivered involuntarily as he tugged her gently forward. His gaze was so intense, his eyes deep as oceans as he watched her with tender affection.

"I think," he began softly, "that I will start with a shower. Care to join me?"

She laughed and linked their hands together in response.

xx

_12:30 pm_

After a rather lengthy shower, they decided to skip breakfast and delve straight into lunch. When they finished, they settled into a routine at the sink as they did the dishes together: a sort of makeshift assembly line as Martin rinsed and scrubbed the dishes clean and then Sam wiped them down with the washrag and set them out to dry.

They worked together in comfortable silence, and Samantha's mind began to drift to how much this Christmas was different from recent years. For as many years as she could remember, she had opted to take call over Christmas and would frequently find herself in the office whether she was called in or not. This year, she not only took time off from work, but she traveled to Washington to spend the holidays with Martin and his family and, furthermore, she had been looking forward to this trip immensely.

As they finished the dishes, Martin took her hand and squeezed it affectionately. "Come here," he said, motioning with his free hand for her to follow him. "I have something I've been wanting to show you."

She nodded her head in assent and, playing off of his own evident excitement, followed him with eager anticipation. He led her down the stairs and into the basement, and she wondered what he could possibly have in mind.

While the rest of the downstairs of his home was elaborately decorated for the purposes of entertaining, the basement remained much more casual and private, rarely used for company unless the company was far less "formal" in nature. The basement held the wet bar, pool table, the big screen TV and entertainment center, as well as the doors to the back patio, and Sam knew that Martin preferred the casual, lived-in feel of the basement.

He led her over to one corner of the large open room and turned back, smiling profusely as he motioned behind him and declared, "We're going to decorate the Christmas tree."

Sam peered behind him at the tree that stood in the corner, the scent of the Fraser fir enveloping her senses as she edged closer. Eyeing him with bemusement, she observed, "But you have a tree already decorated upstairs in the living room."

"I know," he said dismissively, pushing two large cardboard boxes out of the corner and beginning to open them. "But that one is strictly for show purposes. This one," he proclaimed, "is mine."

She smiled at his boyish enthusiasm as he explained his family tradition regarding his personal ornament collection. Each year, from the time he was a newborn baby, his parents, grandparents and other close relatives would include at least one ornament along with his Christmas present, the idea being that once he grew up and had his own home, he would already have a full collection of Christmas ornaments.

With a dimpled grin and looking extremely pleased with himself, he placed a Santa hat triumphantly on his head and announced that they would start by untangling the long strand of tree lights. It was a lengthy process that involved several curse words escaping from her lips as she helped him untangle the lights and hang them on the tree, but she found herself really playing off of his excitement and boyish enthusiasm, feeling touched that he wanted to share this moment with her.

When they were finished, Martin plugged the lights in and the small colored bulbs lit up the room. Outside the sky was grey and dull, the clouds overcast and dark even in the middle of the afternoon, but the twinkle of the colored lights made the entire room seem warm and alive and shook Sam to her very core.

As they began to remove the ornaments from their boxes and decorate the tree, Sam took careful note of each ornament she unwrapped. The inside cover of each box was carefully labeled with the gift giver's name and the Christmas in which it had been given. Occasionally, she would ask him about a particular ornament or he would offer a story about the person who had given it to him, and Sam found herself growing more and more curious with each passing moment. She found herself really enjoying the stories of his childhood and learning more about how he became the man he was today.

At the bottom of the second box, Sam lifted out the larger box that held the angel that would be the tree topper. Martin grew quiet as he watched her hold the angel in her hands, and she gazed up into his eyes until he finally said, "Aunt Bonnie gave me that angel."

Sam remained silent, but tilted her head encouragingly, wanting to urge him on.

He went on to explain how his paternal grandmother died early in December the Christmas that he was six and that Aunt Bonnie had given him the angel in his grandmother's memory, a guardian angel who would watch over Christmas for him when she could not be there.

His voice broke as he finished relating the story, and she wrapped an arm around him, feeling an inexplicable need to be close to him as she shared in his memory.

She held the angel out to him and softly asked, "Do you want to do the honors?"

He smiled warmly and kissed her temple. "No," he replied, shaking his head. "You go ahead."

She climbed the small ladder and positioned the angel carefully atop the fully decorated tree. She turned towards him as she dismounted the ladder, stepping back to admire their handiwork. Snuggling into his shoulder against the soft cotton of his t shirt, she glanced up at him and asked, "So, what do you think?"

"I think..." he said breathlessly, gazing down at her with blue eyes full of tenderness and affection, "I think that it's perfect." He paused for a moment, and she held her breath as the entire world seemed to stand still. He ran one hand along the side of her face and added, "And I love you."

Her breath caught in her throat, and her head began spinning. Deep within her chest, her heart began pounding furiously as she realized the enormity what he had just said. She felt terrified and completely vulnerable, but she looked deep into his eyes and felt warm and cherished.

"Samantha," he breathed her name slowly. "I'm sorry if I've scared you, or if you think it's too soon. But I've been thinking about how to tell you for awhile now, and it just seemed like the right moment." He began rambling, and she could tell how nervous he had suddenly become. "It's alright if you're not ready to say it back," he stuttered. "I just wanted you to know how I feel..."

"Shhh," she interrupted, unaware she was actually speaking until she heard the words leave her lips. "I love you, too."

His face broke out in the widest grin she thought she had ever seen, and his eyes began to sparkle. He took both of her hands in his as they began to laugh softly together.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward, meeting him halfway in a passionate kiss. And for the first time in her entire life, Samantha poured her whole heart into something.

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	53. Chapter 52

SMUT WARNING. If that is not your thing, this chapter can be skipped with no trouble as far as the storyline is concerned.

xxxxx

_**chapter fifty-two**_

xxxxx

_and i would be the one  
to hold you down  
kiss you so hard  
i'll take your breath away  
and after i wipe away the tears  
just close your eyes dear_  
-Sarah McLachlan, "Possession"

xx

As they stood there bathed in the soft colored lights of the Christmas tree, they continued to kiss until they finally had to pull away, breathless and faces flushed. Sam gazed up at him, still trying to take in what had just happened, when she suddenly noticed that he was still wearing that ridiculous Santa hat. He was still grinning from ear to ear, and she began to giggle softly at the sight of him. There was a pleasant euphoria and rush of adrenaline that followed realizing how she really felt about Martin, and if this was what being in love was like, she decided she never wanted to forget this feeling, this moment. There was an element of intense vulnerability that did terrify her, but those feelings paled whenever she looked into Martin's eyes. He was different; if anyone in the world could be trusted, he would be that one person.

Martin looked down questioningly, a sparkle in his eyes, and she reached up to discard his festive hat.

He touched her face gently and leaned in to kiss her again. "You don't like my hat?" he joked.

She shook her head, feigning a look of stern dissatisfaction. Laughing, she finally whispered against his ear, "It wasn't particularly high on my list of fantasies."

She shivered as he ran his fingers lightly along her forearms through her sweater, causing goose bumps to rise up on her skin. He pressed his lips against hers again, his kiss growing in intensity as she felt herself becoming more and more aroused with each taste of his tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her hands through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. She relaxed against him as he ran his hands along her back, causing pleasant tingling sensations to travel the length of her spine.

When she dropped her hands down to tug at the hem of his shirt, he pulled away and shook his head. "Here?" he murmured, then nodded his head back towards the stairwell leading up from the basement. "C'mon," he urged.

"Martin," she murmured, realizing what he must be thinking. While she was touched by his thoughtfulness that even in his aroused state he would think of going someplace more comfortable, she knew logically that there was no way they would make it upstairs. She could already feel her body responding to the deepening of his kiss and the soft touch of his hands that, combined with the overwhelming desire to be close to Martin intimately after sharing their feelings, made moving upstairs seem like a near impossibility. As she felt the obvious evidence of Martin's arousal pressing up against her, she knew that he felt the same in spite of his words to the contrary.

She tugged at the hem of his cotton t shirt once again, this time lifting it up and over his head. She ran her hands along his bare chest, relishing the warmth that radiated from him, as he began to slowly unfasten the buttons on her shirt. He slid the material slowly from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor by her feet. Discarding their pants, they stood together in front of the tree, clad only in their underwear as their arousal escalated.

Martin held her close, sliding his hands from her hips to her ass and giving it an affectionate squeeze. She fully expected him to slide her panties off, so she frowned when she felt the loss of his touch as he stepped away from her. The only sounds in the room were that of their heavy, panting breaths as she watched in curiosity as he shuffled quickly over to the sofa and grabbed the blanket that draped over the side. He carefully laid the blanket out on the floor in front of the tree and gazed up at her with wide, inviting blue eyes that shone deep with his arousal.

She lay down on the blanket beside him, feeling her body tremble with desire as he traced soft patterns along her chest and abdomen. Finally leaning over her, he trailed his hands around to unclasp her bra and letting the material fall away to fully expose her cleavage. She shuddered pleasurably as he nibbled at the tender spot where her throat and collarbone met while his hands began to stroke her breasts. Sam writhed beneath him as he trailed soft kisses down her chest until he took one breast in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive areola then flicking it across her nipple. His mouth moved from one breast to the other and repeated the same motions, and Sam moaned his name throatily.

Sam was torn between her obvious want and urgency, and her desire to relish this moment, to make it as slow and tender as Martin wanted it to be. His lips outlined a path from her breasts to her stomach, his tongue dipping sensually into her navel and then stopping deliberately just as he reached her panties. He slipped his fingers inside to quickly touch the soft, wet curls where she most wanted him, but then simply hooked his fingers around the waistband to drag them down and off of her, leaving her completely nude and vulnerable in his arms. She let out a long, ragged breath in an attempt to slow her racing heart, until she felt his fingers trace soft patterns down the length of her legs. He caressed her feet sensually before spreading her legs and bending her knees, allowing himself access.

Her whole body tingled with anticipation as she felt his warm breath against her most sensitive skin. One hand firmly on her hips to keep her in place, he nibbled on her outer lips, using the index finger on his free hand to trace circles around her swollen clit as he teased her. Her hips strained against his firm grip, and he murmured "Shhhh, stay still," in a low, humming voice that sent pleasant vibrations coursing through her body. She was whimpering almost constantly when he finally dipped his tongue inside to penetrate her, and the sudden contact had her calling out his name.

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, changing the angle of penetration to better stimulate her G spot. As he began to suck on her swollen bundle of nerves, she felt the flashes of white hot ecstasy overwhelm her as she released a guttural moan and went limp in his arms.

When she finally recovered from the deep intensity of her orgasm, she found him lying alongside her with his lips pressed into her shoulder and one arm wrapped around her, eyes twinkling and looking very pleased with himself.

Gathering up what was left of her strength, she wordlessly pushed on his shoulder so that he was lying flat on his back. She straddled him, her naked ass resting on the taut muscles of his stomach. She felt some of her wetness drip out onto his stomach and grinned devilishly, knowing the effect that it would have on him. She could feel the hardness of his fully erect cock as she sat back, feeling it straining against the constricting cotton material of his boxers.

She could taste herself on his lips when she leaned forward to kiss him before wriggling down his body to grab hold of his boxers. He lifted his hips, and she tugged his boxers off, tossing them unceremoniously on the floor.

She slowly licked her lips to ensure they were fully lubricated before taking the head of his penis in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the tip as a few drops of pre-cum began to leak out, and she began to relax her throat to take his cock in deeper. She hummed softly, knowing how much he responded to the vibrations, and she fondled his balls with her free hand as she ran her tongue sensually along the underside of his shaft.

Sam was so caught up in what she was doing that it took few a minute to realize that Martin's grunts and moans of pleasure had become protests. She lifted her head, eyes appreciatively traveling the length of his body before meeting his gaze. She was reassured to see that, in spite of his protests, that his eyes were dark, pupils heavy and unfocused. "Martin?" she asked, trying to hide the worry that edged her voice. If he had criticism of her fellatio technique, she had no idea why he had waited this long to tell her - and why he would choose to tell her now.

"Sam," he murmured softly, tugging at her hands as he brought her to lie on his chest. "You have no idea how amazing that feels," he leaned forward to kiss her lips. "But if you keep going, well... I really wanna come inside you."

Sam chuckled half from relief and half from amusement, leaning closer to kiss him squarely on the lips. Her tongue probed his mouth and was quickly granted access, his hands caressing her back as he carefully rolled them over so that he was on top. He propped himself up on top of her, positioning himself at her entrance. He nudged her opening with his cock, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling of being entirely surrounded by him. He pushed inside with one quick, firm thrust of his hips, and as she adjusted to his length inside of her, he stilled his movements.

In that moment, with the only sounds that of their panting breaths and their hearts racing, she looked up into his eyes and found him looking down at her with total love and adoration, and she relished the feeling of being completely connected to him, both physically and emotionally. He kissed her as he began to move his hips, alternating long, deep thrusts with shorter ones, and grinding his hips against hers.

They took their time as they moved together, enjoying the closeness of the moment, until their desire finally took over and the pace and intensity began to build. Sam arched her back and tilted her pelvis, allowing him to penetrate her deeper as she reached down to stimulate her clit. Her eyes shut tight as her orgasm hit, her inner muscles contracting around him as the intense spasms took hold of her entire body. She moaned his name long and hard as she came and, with her release, he too let go and spilled himself inside of her.

When she finally recovered from the most intense, exhilarating orgasm she'd had in her life, she opened her eyes to see Martin's staring right back at her. "That was amazing," she said softly, giving him a warm, satiated smile. Her entire body felt limp and pliable, and she relaxed into Martin's embrace as he drew her in close.

"It was," he agreed, dropping a kiss against her temple.

"I really do love you," she breathed.

He beamed back, giving her a smile that rivaled the Christmas lights in festivity and pure joy, and replied, "I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of hearing that."

She laughed. "Good, because at this point I think you're stuck with me."

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	54. Chapter 53

xxxxx

_**fifty-three**_

xxxxx

_all i want is for you to have  
a life you love and live  
take from me all i have to give  
because you are in my heart_  
-Vertical Horizon, "The Man Who Would Be Santa"

xx

_10:00 pm_

Martin leaned back against the soft cushions of the sofa in the living room of his parents' house. So much happened over the last 24 hours that he was grateful for the opportunity to simply relax for a few minutes and enjoy a quiet moment with Sam and his sisters and brothers-in-law.

His parents had retired to bed not long after Caroline put Kelsey and Bridget down, although Martin suspected that neither one of his parents would be falling asleep for some time now. They had remained calm when Becca and Scott arrived with the twins, but that was likely more from the sheer shock than from unruffled acceptance.

He felt awful because he could understand both points of view: Rebecca, wanting to minimize the 'disapproval' from their largely traditional father, and his parents, feeling deeply wounded that their daughter willingly chose to keep such an important piece of news from them.

But nothing - _nothing_ - could get him down today. There was nothing she could give him this Christmas that would come close to what she had given him already. He had been in love with Sam for quite some time now, and not only did he finally tell her how he felt, but he discovered that she felt the same way. For the first time in his life, he felt he was with someone who truly balanced him out. In a world where the majority of the people he worked with operated on false pretenses and worked solely for their own personal gain, he knew how lucky he was to have someone in his life who could bring him perspective -- on both the big issues and the little things.

He looked up as Rebecca shuffled back into the room and sank down into the opposite sofa right beside Scott. She leaned in to her husband and laughed good-naturedly, "Well, I got her to go back down pretty quickly, so that means in two hours when Alex wakes up and needs something, it will probably take us several hours."

Martin grinned, shifting against the sofa cushions to lean forward. He narrowed his eyes as he smirked, "They inherited your impeccable sense of humor, then, didn't they Bec?"

Rebecca gave him her best annoyed older sister glare as everyone else laughed.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Caroline asked, setting her glass of wine down on the end table next to her. Her eyes fell on the Christmas tree, colored lights sparkling in the otherwise darkened room. All of the presents were already laid out in careful piles, the largest piles the ones designated for Kelsey and Bridget. Martin met Caro's eyes and smiled, instantly knowing exactly what she was recalling.

"Christmas morning before Mom and Dad woke up," he finished for her. He leaned back against the sofa and felt Sam rest her side against his, tilting her head to give him a questioning look.

"Christmas morning was the one day every year that Dad would allow himself to sleep in," Rebecca said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Every year, Caro used to set her alarm clock for 5:00 AM. She would sneak into both of our rooms and wake us up, and we would come down and sit in front of the Christmas tree and try to guess what was in all of the presents."

Martin held Samantha's hand in his and laced their fingers together. "We would stay down here talking until the sun came up, then we would sneak back upstairs to bed."

Across the room, Caroline grinned and raised her eyebrows. "I think Dad was completely clueless, but Mom definitely knew." She paused, looking from Martin to Rebecca and then back again. "Oh, don't look so shocked. She always knew more than we gave her credit for. When I came back for winter break after my freshman year at Swarthmore, she told me that if we were going to get up early on Christmas morning, we needed to remember to keep it quiet going up and down the stairs."

Martin furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "How could she have heard us, though? We were always so careful."

Caroline laughed. "You wouldn't understand, Marty. Some people think it's mother's intuition, but I believe that something happens to a woman's body when she gives birth that permanently alters the way her ears work."

Everyone laughed. Rebecca quickly rose from her seat, however, and said, "Speaking of..." as she shuffled out of the living room and back down the hall in the direction of the guest room where she and Scott were staying.

No more than five seconds after Rebecca's figure disappeared from the doorway, everyone turned as Alex's cries could be heard on the baby monitor.

"She didn't give birth," Tim proclaimed authoritatively, looking down at his wife bemusedly. "So how do you explain _that_?"

Caroline grunted in displeasure and snatched a throw pillow from the end of the sofa, lobbing it at him defiantly.

xx

_December 25, 2003  
7:45 am_

Martin awoke the next morning to find the bed cold beside him. Rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, he threw the comforter back and sat on the edge of the bed, glancing around as he wondered where Sam had gone.

He did not have to look long however, as he her Sam's voice carry up from downstairs. She was talking on the phone with someone and had obviously forgotten that the any sounds from the living room carry upstairs pretty easily. They had returned from his parents' last night and fallen right to sleep, exhausted from the events of the day, so Martin was surprised that Sam had woken up so early.

He rose from the bed and ambled towards the door. He stopped when he got to the top of the stairs though, as he caught exactly what she was saying. It sounded like she was talking to her sister.

"... Yeah, Linds. It will be good for you to go to the party. You never know; he might actually be nice," Sam paused to listen to the voice on the other end of the line. She was silent for a few minutes, and Lindsay must have changed the subject. "No, we're doing really well..." She laughed softly, "At least, I think so. He told me he loves me, so I think that qualifies, right? ... Anyway, I should probably start moving towards getting ready go to back over to his parents'. Merry Christmas, and call me to let me know how the party goes tonight."

As Martin heard her hang up the phone, he was torn between wanting to rush downstairs immediately and see her on Christmas morning and not wanting her to know that he had been listening in on her conversation. It wasn't really his fault though; the second he heard her talking about them, he wanted to know what she would say. He was relieved to know that a day later, she was not suddenly panicking because they were "moving too fast."

He slowly started down the stairs, covering his mouth with one hand as he stifled a yawn. Sam looked up as she saw him approaching, smiling at him. "Merry Christmas," she greeted.

"Mmm," he mumbled, leaning over the arm of the sofa to kiss her solidly on the lips. "Merry Christmas. How long have you been up?"

"That depends. How long have you been eavesdropping?" she replied with a grin.

He narrowed his eyes, feigning ignorance. She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he relented. "Not long..."

"Then," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes, "I haven't been up for long, either."

"Tease," he muttered, the sofa cushions shifting accordingly as he sat down right next to her. He ran one hand along her thigh and leaned in to kiss her again. "Good morning. What did your sister have to say?"

"Nothing much," Sam replied, "She just called to say Merry Christmas. A friend of hers from the university invited her to a Christmas dinner party tonight, and she was telling me about that. Apparently, her friend knows someone she's just dying to set Lindsey up with, but Lindsey isn't so sure." Sam paused and shrugged her shoulders. "I told her to just go with an open mind; you never know what might happen."

"When did you get to be so wise?" he teased, relaxing back into the sofa cushions.

She swatted her forearm at him playfully, releasing a grunt to signify her mock displeasure in his insinuations. Of all the time he got to spend with Sam, moments like this one were among his favorites. The moments in the early morning when everything was quiet and they could lounge around alone together in their pajamas.

Sighing, he glanced down at his watch.

"You're right. We should probably think about getting ready to head back over to your parents," Sam agreed. She patted his thigh and jumped up from the sofa, picking up a box from under the fully decorated tree in his living room. "But I think you should open this first."

He tilted his neck casually, peering at the carefully wrapped box she held out to him. "You want to do gifts now?" he asked.

She shook her head as she handed him the box. "No, I think we can wait until tonight. But I did want you open this one before we go over to your parents."

He furrowed his eyebrows in curiosity, concentrating as he slid his index finger to break the tape on the underside of the parcel. Shaking the lid free from the box, he revealed several silk ties. He glanced up at her, and she was standing triumphantly in front of him with her hands on her hips.

"Do you like them?" She asked, her tone low and scheming. She looked remarkably pleased with herself.

"Of course I do Sam," he replied honestly. He was genuinely touched that she had gone out of her way to pick these out for him.

"Good," she said defiantly. She picked the tie from the bottom of the box and held it in her hands. It was a deep hunter green. "This one will work nicely with the shirt and jacket you're wearing to Mass with your family tonight."

He narrowed his eyelids in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She cocked her eyebrows suspiciously at him and laughed. "Do you honestly think I am going to let you out of the house in that horrible Santa tie that you have?" She looked at him intently, and he shrugged his shoulders, smiling. "Honestly, Martin!" she proclaimed, "It never ceases to amaze me. A man as powerful and influential as you are can't find someone who can help him pick out a tie that _matches!_"

She folded her arms authoritatively across her chest and grinned.

He couldn't help but laugh.

xxxxx


	55. Chapter 54

xxxxx

_**chapter fifty-four**_

xxxxx

_this year's love had better last  
heaven knows it's high time  
i've been waiting on my own too long_

_and when you hold me like you do  
it feels so right_  
-David Gray, "This Year's Love"

xx

_10:30 am_

"Mom! Can I have a muffin?" Kelsey called out, looking up from the piles of wrapping paper surrounding where she was sitting.

Caroline, who was sitting on the sofa just behind Kelsey, leaned forward to ruffle her daughter's hair. "I don't know, sweetie. You have to ask Grandma if they're done yet."

Lydia, who sat at the far end of the room next to Victor, shifted her weight and said, "I think they've got about five more minutes, Kels, but I tell you what? When they're done, you can come and help me take them out of the oven, alright?"

"Okay!" Kelsey agreed, smiling broadly as she became immediately occupied with the many gifts strewn on the floor beside her.

Sam watched in amusement as Kelsey and Bridget entertained themselves with the contents of the countless boxes and packages they had already opened. It was no secret that Victor and Lydia Fitzgerald loved to dote on their grandchildren.

Sam sat chatting quietly with Rebecca as Martin, Tim and Scott sat on the floor trying to assemble the kitchen set that Bridget received from Santa Claus. Rebecca held Natalie in her arms while Alex slept quietly in the carrier at their feet; from all reports, Alex did not have an easy night, and the peace and quiet was much appreciated - especially by his exhausted new parents.

Sam had to admit that she had a tremendous level of admiration for Rebecca and Scott. Natalie and Alex were beautiful children, but they were outliers on the growth chart, falling below the 3 in weight compared to other children their age. They had been evaluated by several physicians - including Tim - before the adoption was made official, but there were always problems that could arise down the road that no one could foresee at this point in time.

Sam suspected that was one of the main reasons Rebecca feared Victor would object to the adoption.

Just as she and Rebecca shared a conspiratorial smirk as they watched the three men struggle with the construction of the kitchen set, Alex awoke and began to cry. With Scott tied up in the construction project, Sam offered to take Natalie from Rebecca so that she could comfort her son.

Sam took the warm bundle in her arms, wondering at how something so small could simultaneously seem so heavy in spite of the supposed fact that she was far under the normal growth curve for her age. She felt her breath catch in her throat when Rebecca announced that she would have to go to the diaper bag, feeling a momentary panic that somehow in Rebecca's absence something might come up that she would not be able to handle.

She rocked the infant gently, feeling herself relax as she became more comfortable with each passing second. Natalie cooed softly in her arms and Sam felt an unfamiliar tugging deep in her heart.

She looked up in time to see Bridget decide that her father and her uncles needed 'help' - and in turn toppled over right onto Martin's lap. He tickled her and her laughter filled up the room.

She spent so much of her time being vehemently opposed to the idea of marriage, a husband, a family, but that was all before she had met Martin. She saw first-hand how good Martin was with his nieces and his cousin Jamie's daughter, and she knew that he wanted a family of his own someday. In spite of herself, she found herself occasionally thinking about a little girl with Martin's blue eyes or a little boy with his infectious smile.

She met Martin's eyes and smiled, shivering involuntarily at the intensity of his gaze.

And she felt she could hear exactly what he was thinking.

xx

_8:00 pm_

Sam could see her breath as they raced from the car to the front door of Martin's place, scaling the front steps quickly and leaning in against his shoulder as he fumbled with the keys in his front door.

Finally the lock gave way and the front door swung open, and they rushed quickly inside before shutting the door firmly behind them.

"It's freezing out there!" Sam exclaimed, rubbing her hands together as she tried to readjust to being indoors. "I always knew I should have asked to transfer to LA."

"I'm glad that you didn't," Martin countered, taking her coat from her and hanging it alongside his in the hall closet.

"I guess so," she teased, turning around to kiss him softly. "Imagine the scandal it would have caused if the New York Senator was dating someone from LA."

"Yeah," he breathed. He held her hand in his, linking their fingers together. "Thank you for coming with me tonight," he said.

"Hey, it was no problem," she insisted. "I had a good time. Besides, your new tie was a hit."

She smiled, wanting to reassure him. He had insisted she did not need to accompany him with his family to Mass, but she had decided to come along anyway. She enjoyed spending time with his family and learning more about what Martin's life was like when he was growing up.

"Yes, yes," he said with a wave of his hand. He would never admit it, but she knew he secretly enjoyed that she had selected ties that better matched his suits. "So," he said finally, gazing down into her eyes. "What do you say we get some eggnog and head downstairs?"

Sam agreed easily and followed him into the kitchen, where he poured two glasses of eggnog. They took the back stairwell down into the basement and settled down in front of the tree, the lights casting a colorful glow around the room. Martin turned the knob and started the gas fireplace before coming over to sit beside her.

They sat on the floor, Martin leaning back against the sofa and Sam leaning back against him.

"You want to go first?" he asked, handing her a small gift-wrapped package.

"Sure," she said, taking the package from him and beginning to tear at the wrapping paper. She slid her finger underneath the crease and broke the tape, peeling back the brightly colored paper to reveal a light blue Tiffany's box. "Oh, Martin," she whispered. "You really didn't need to..."

"Shh," he urged. "Just open it."

She flipped the lid of the plush velvet box to reveal beautiful diamond drop earrings. She inhaled and fingered the earrings gently; in all the years she had lived in New York she had never actually bought anything from Tiffany's, never able to justify the expense.

"They're beautiful," she said finally, "Thank you." She took off the pearl studs she was currently wearing and carefully fastened he diamonds in each lobe. "What do you think?" she asked.

"I think," he replied, kissing her tenderly. She felt him place another box in her lap, "that you should open this."

She exhaled and with unsteady hands began to pull the wrapping paper away from the second box, opening it to reveal the diamond pendant that matched her earrings.

"Martin..." she breathed, completely overwhelmed by the perceived extravagance of her gift.

"Shhh," he replied. "It's not too much. Caroline was mentioning you hadn't decided what jewelry to wear to the Adair's party on Saturday, so I thought that if you wanted... now you would have something to go with your dress."

She found herself completely speechless, so she twisted her torso around and tilted her head in to kiss him. "Thank you," she breathed finally and held the box out to him. "Will you help me put it on?"

"Of course," he replied. She held her hair back and out of the way as he draped the diamond pendant around her chest, kissing the nape of her neck as he fastened the clasp in the back. Letting her hair fall back into place he grinned and said, "Just for future reference whenever you are concerned, I always prefer taking it off."

She laughed. "Easy there," she said with a smirk, "there will be time for that later." She held out her own carefully-wrapped parcel and said, "In the meantime, I have something else for you. It's not much, but..."

"I'm sure I'll love it," he reassured her, kissing her tenderly as he began to open the box. She felt herself hold her breath as he separated the lid of the box and began to lift up the layers of tissue paper protecting her gift. Then finally he inhaled sharply, "Oh, Sam... Where did you even get this?"

She smiled at him, satisfied that he seemed to like his gift, and peered into the box once more to inspect the antique watch with a careful eye. She motioned for him to hold out his forearm, and she fastened the watch in its proper place around his wrist. "I asked your Aunt Bonnie about it," she explained finally. "When she was first diagnosed, you mentioned all about your grandfather's watch and how she gave it to you the day you decided you were going to go into politics. When I asked why you never wore it..."

"... I told you it was because it stopped working a long time ago and no one could ever figure out how to repair it," he finished for her.

"Anyway," she continued, "About a month and a half ago, a newlywed disappeared from baggage claim at La Guardia on her way back from her honeymoon, and her husband is a talented craftsman who specializes in antique watches. I called Jamie up that night and asked her if Bonnie happened to know what had happened to the watch, and she said that they still had it up in storage with the rest of your grandfather's things. So I went down to the storage unit with your aunt and your cousins, and I had it fixed." She paused for a moment, inspecting the antique watch once more. "What do you think?" she asked finally.

He smiled. "I couldn't love anything more."

xxxxx


	56. Chapter 55

xxxxx

_**chapter fifty-five**_

xxxxx

_am i ready for forever?  
oh, god, show me a sign  
'cause if we're to be together  
then it's got to be divine_  
-Dana Glover, "Thinking Over"

xx

_December 27, 2003  
7:40 pm_

"Martin?" Sam asked quietly, stepping out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

He glanced up as he heard her footsteps moving closer, but his hands were still working at fastening the last button on his dark blue dress shirt. "Yes?"

He felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw her standing in the bathroom doorway, her periwinkle blue dress clinging to her figure in all the right places and her new diamond jewelry sparkling in the soft light of the room. Even after all of these months, every time he looked at Sam he found himself struck by just how beautiful she was.

"How come you didn't tell me President Bartlett is going to be at this party tonight?" she asked softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear.

Martin stepped forward and motioned for her to sit on the edge of the bed. The bed dipped as he knelt behind her and began to slowly massage her shoulders; she was really tense about this party tonight. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly. "I didn't know myself until just yesterday; I thought the President was still going to be in Michigan with his family. The First Lady and Nancy Adair are old friends, so I have a feeling that has something to do with it."

"Okay," Sam sighed, tilting her head up to look him in the eyes.

"Sam," he breathed, "It's going to be fine. There's nothing to worry about."

He knew that she was nervous. She would never admit it, but she had been a little bit on edge as the day wore on. She had been fine all morning while they had been with his family during the party his mother insisted on throwing together for Alex and Natalie. Rebecca protested the idea at first, but eventually gave in to the guilt to avoid fighting with Victor.

In the end, Martin was glad that Rebecca had agreed to the party. It was a low-key event as far as his mother was concerned, but it was good for her to have an official outlet to dote on her newest grandchildren, both of whom she had fallen in love with already as Martin had predicted.

He wondered one day, what his own children might be like. Although Sam would deny it at all costs, she was a natural with his nieces and nephew, and seeing her holding them, becoming comfortable with them, made his heart skip a beat.

"I'm sorry, I just..."

"It's okay, Sam," he rubbed her back as he spoke in a soft, soothing tone. "It's really not going to be a big thing."

Sam turned her head and gave him a skeptical look. "That's easy for you to say."

"Would it make you feel better if you brought your gun, just in case?" he teased, trying to lighten her mood.

She grinned at him and rolled her eyes as she replied, "Don't worry. I was planning on it."

xx

_9:50 pm_

Martin took hold of the wine glasses that the bartender held out to him and walked back over to where Sam was standing with Colin and Nancy Adair, First Lady Jamie Bartlett, and Charlie Hughes, the Senate Majority Leader. He smiled to himself as he watched her; when he left to refill their wine glasses, she had been deep in conversation with Hughes and holding her own. Not only was he with the most beautiful woman in the room, but he was with one of the only ones who could hold a conversation about something other than frivolous interests: hair, clothing, Capital Hill gossip, etc.

Not that Sam wouldn't be able to participate in gossip-oriented discussions, of course. He noticed on several occasions the tabloid issue magazines that Sam would purchase, although when asked she would always either deny it or change the subject.

"Here you are," he said as he returned to her side, holding one glass out to her.

She smiled as she accepted the glass. "Thank you," she replied.

"Martin," Charlie Hughes turned to him, his voice rattling like that of a man who smoked for many years, "How come you didn't tell us that Samantha knew Natasha Tzetcovich?"

"Natasha Tzetcovich?" he asked, his mind racing as he tried to place where he had heard that name before. "You mean the famous teenage violinist?"

"Mmhmm," Sam nodded and sipped from her wine glass. "You probably don't remember, but she went missing a few months ago and we were the team that investigated it. It was just before your aunt's biopsy came back..."

"Oh, that's right," he said with a small nod. He had a vague recollection of her mentioning a violinist who had gone missing, but the time surrounding Aunt Bonnie's diagnosis was mostly a blur to him. "I think I remember that now."

"We were just saying how nice it is that she's decided to start playing again," Hughes commented, crossing his arms over his chest. Hughes turned to address the First Lady, "You went the last time she came to the Kennedy Center, right?"

"She was magnificent," Jamie replied emphatically, "So incredibly talented."

"She's rescheduled a few dates for this summer although she's cut back significantly," Hughes added.

"Well, she's sixteen," Sam said, shrugging her shoulders. She spoke with confidence and finality in her tone, but managed to express herself without sounding too challenging or confrontational. "She wants to have a normal life. It's hard to argue with that."

The group fell silent as each seemed to contemplate their own thoughts, the air filled with the general rumble of other groups' conversation and the music from the string quartet. Martin smiled at Sam and wrapped his free arm around her waist, enjoying being out in her company. He could tell she was still feeling a bit uncomfortable and out of her element, but she was handling herself with the poise and grace of someone who had been doing this her entire life.

Furthermore she seemed to have endeared herself to Nancy Adair, which Martin learned was one of the fastest ways to assure your approval amongst Capital Hill society. Colin Adair was not only his senior and mentor in the Senate, but one of the most well-liked and respected members of their party. Her over twenty-five years of experience as a Senator's wife, coupled by her long-time friendship with the First Lady, made her one of the leading women in the political circles with which Martin kept himself allied.

He was secretly pleased that she seemed to have made a good impression on Nancy and Colin Adair. Colin had even mentioned the four of them getting dinner together the next time an opportunity arose, which he took as a good sign. Colin was more than just a respected colleague and mentor, but had become a good friend over the course of the last two years since he first approached Martin to encourage him to run for the open Senate seat.

xx

_Martin heard the knock on his office door and sighed as he looked up from his computer screen._

_"Come in," he said._

_"Mr. Fitzgerald?" Teresa, the petite woman who was one of the office secretaries, opened the door ajar and poked her head inside his office. "There's a visitor here to see you."_

_He nodded resolutely, hitting 'save' on his computer screen before closing the spreadsheet he had been revising. "Send them on in." He watched as Teresa bit her bottom lip; there was something she wasn't telling him. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. "What is it?" he asked._

_"It's Senator Adair, sir," Teresa replied, trying to fight back a giggle. Teresa frequently had her head in the clouds and was attracted to money and power. She was a sweet girl, but very immature and flighty. There were rumors going around that she was interested in him, but then, there were rumors going around that she was sleeping with Jimmy Dalton, the corporation's heir apparent. Furthermore, Martin would never be interested; he liked more substance in the women he dated._

_Martin had met Senator Adair on one occasion when he had been invited by President Bartlett's Chief of Staff as an expert to make budget recommendations. "Well, then," Martin said, "Go ahead and send him in."_

_Teresa disappeared in a flash, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, and after a few moments there was another soft knock and the door swung open on its hinges._

_"Mr. Fitzgerald," Senator Adair shut the door behind him and held out his hand._

_"Senator, sir," Martin replied, rising from his desk and walking over to shake the Senator's hand. "It's a pleasure. What can I do for you today?"_

_"I'm here on behalf of the Democratic Party and President Bartlett's administration," the Senator began. "Russell Porter is going to announce next Monday that he will not be seeking re-election in November. The party was very impressed with your suggestions for the budget, and we are prepared to give you our full support if you decide to put your name out there."_

_"I'm sorry?" Martin furrowed his eyebrows in shock and confusion. He had been planning on trying to break into politics on the local or state level first before trying to break into national politics. Suddenly, his father's cryptic phone message from the night before made sense; his father had referenced 'something big' that he heard was about to happen. "Me?" Martin asked, still slightly stunned at the Senator's frankness._

_"You're everything the party is looking for right now: you're young, you have new, fresh ideas, you've done some great pro bono work through the Corporation, and you have the full support of the party and the President if you want it," Senator Adair replied matter-of-factly. "The only drawback in the eyes of the public will be that you're not married, but you have your family and you're young enough that it won't matter."_

_"I'm... I'm honored," he replied._

_Senator Adair smiled. "Think about it. The President is having a dinner at the White House this weekend for some of the Party Leaders, and you are welcome to attend if you want to get a closer look at things."_

_"I will."_

_"Excellent," Adair replied, holding out his hand. "Here's my card. Don't hesitate to contact me if you have any questions."_

_"Thank you," Martin took the card readily and immediately put it in his top jacket pocket so he would not lose it._

_Senator Adair gave a quick, subtle nod of his head. "Have a good afternoon, Mr. Fitzgerald," he said, and then he was gone._

_Martin sighed heavily as he shut the door behind him and sat back down at his desk. His mind was racing at warp speed as he tried to process what had just happened and hold onto coherent thought._

_After almost five minutes of staring blankly at his computer screen, watching the screensaver shift, he pulled out his phone book and began to sort through it. He was going to need to make a phone call to his travel agent._

xx

"Penny for your thoughts?" Sam asked softly as she looked up at him, pulling him from the memory.

He smiled and hugged her closer, thinking how much his life had changed for the better since that day nearly two years ago when he sat all alone in his office in New York. "Shouldn't my thoughts be worth at least a dollar?"

She grinned. "I think you're overestimating the degree to which the rest of us value your thoughts, Mr. Senator," she joked, poking him lightly in the chest.

"Ouch, that was low," he laughed. He kissed her temple lightly and said, "I was just thinking about what a natural you are at these things; if I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd been doing this your whole life."

"Hardly," she scoffed, chewing tentatively on her lower lip. "I feel like I have 'Out Of Place' tattooed on my forehead."

He dropped his arm from her waist to link their hands together, entwining their fingers and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Not at all," he shook his head, leaning down to kiss her on the lips. He exhaled and looked deep into her brown eyes, "It's like you were meant to be here."

xxxxx


	57. Chapter 56

xxxxx

_**chapter fifty-six**_

xxxxx

_scared of the things that people say  
knowing my confidence might fade  
i feel the world's weight, upon my breaking back  
i see uncertainty, and the visible crack_  
-Amanda Ghost, "Silver Lining"

xx

_January 24, 2004  
New York City  
7:00 am_

"Sam?"

She groaned and rolled over as she heard Martin call out her name as he came out of the bathroom. "Don't want to," she said, feeling the bed dip and rise accordingly as Martin sat down beside her. "Too tired."

"Sorry," he said softly, "But your phone is ringing."

She groaned again and sat up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed as she sat beside Martin. She squinted and rubbed her eyes and said, "If it's work, tell them I don't want to go. Everyone is just going to have to stay missing today."

Martin cocked an eyebrow and handed her the phone. "Good morning," he laughed, and he kissed her on the forehead as she answered.

"Spade," she uttered, clearing her throat.

She waited for the voice on the other end. "Sam, good. We've got one," Jack's voice answered.

"Okay," she said, searching the night stand for a notepad and a pen. Finding one, she continued, "Go ahead."

"Brian Owen, 38 years old. The ex-wife called it in; he didn't show yesterday to pick up their daughter for the weekend," Jack sighed.

"Delinquent dad? Is that really something that's going to need all our manpower over the weekend?" she asked, her tone skeptical and her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Ex-wife is worried sick: he's not returning her calls or answering any pages. She says he's not like that, that he's never even a minute late for a pickup."

"They all say that," Sam rolled her eyes. "It still doesn't sound like any of our business."

"We have to check it out," Jack answered definitively. "I need you to meet Danny and Naomi at the Parkside Hotel where the ex-wife thinks he was working a job two nights ago. Look for signs of foul play."

Sam inhaled sharply and frowned. She had been at the Parkside Hotel two nights ago, having dinner in their five star restaurant with Martin and the Adairs. "The Parkside?" she stuttered, and she felt Martin's eyes watching her intently. Maybe their missing person had been right there, and she hadn't even known.

"Yeah, I'll give you the address," Jack replied.

"No, no," Sam chewed hesitantly on her bottom lip. "I know where it is."

"Okay, good." She could hear the confusion in Jack's voice as he considered her words. "Then should I have Naomi pick you up?"

"It's probably not in the interests of time to do that; I'm coming in from Westchester County."

"Right, of course," he said, and she could sense the sarcastic tone in his voice. "As far as we know, the last place he was seen was at the hotel, so let me know if you see anything that indicates foul play. Viv's got the subpoena for the phone records so she's going to meet me at his place to see if we can get a better idea of where he might have gone if he ran."

"Alright," she said, scribbling a few basic details down on her notepad. "I'll head on in and give you a call if we find anything."

She flipped the phone shut and felt Martin's hand run along her back. "What's going on at the Parkside?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, trying to play off the sinking feeling in her gut, as though something was about to go horribly wrong. "38 years old, didn't show to pick up his daughter last night. He was working at the Parkside on Thursday night and that was the last place anyone saw him, so I'm meeting Danny and Naomi there to check it out."

"Oh," he said. She saw a small pout cross his face and could hear the hint of disappointment in his voice. To be honest, she was disappointed too; she had been getting used to getting to see him more often. But she had switched call last weekend in order to go with him to Chicago with him for Alex and Natalie's Christening, so she couldn't really complain about getting called in this weekend when it seemed like everyone was going to be involved in the case anyway.

"Why don't you go hang out with Jamie and your sister, I'm sure the girls would love to see you," she suggested, reluctantly leaving the warm confines of the bed behind and shuffling over to the closet where several of her work suits had taken up residence. She took a blouse and jacket off of the hanger and stuck her head out of the closet and said, "I'm not even sure it's going to turn out to be anything, it may just be a delinquent dad who decided he didn't want to show. In which case I shouldn't be longer than a couple of hours while we sort it out."

"Oh-kay," he said with a dramatic sigh, and looked up at her and grinned.

She shook her head in bemusement and laughed with him.

xx

_8:30 am_

The cab driver pulled right up to the curb and she opened the door and jumped out, quickly opening her purse and thrusting several bills at the driver. She took a few deep breaths to shake herself of the irritation of coming in to work in the morning's bumper-to-bumper traffic. She squinted in the bright morning sunlight that crept over the tall buildings, and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes to shield them.

Looking up, she quickly scanned the sidewalk and saw Danny chatting with a doorman, dressed clearly in the red and gold hotel uniform. Danny met her eyes, motioned for the doorman to wait for a second and turned to walk up to her.

"How nice of you to join us," Danny proclaimed with a sarcastic grin.

She shrugged and smiled at her friend as she replied, "Cross-town traffic was unreal." She looked behind him and motioned to the doorman. "What do we have so far?"

"Brian Owen, 38 years old, last seen here with about eight other paparazzi..."

"You've got to be kidding me!" she interrupted with a frown.

"What do you mean?" Danny shifted his weight and looked at her curiously.

"I was here Thursday night having dinner at Jeanne's; we didn't realize that Randall Corey was going to be right here and the paparazzi would be here waiting for them..."

xx

_"So, Samantha," Nancy Adair set her wine glass down on the table and turned her fork over on her plate signaling that she had finished with her dessert, "Martin mentioned that you got to see your family when you both went to Chicago last weekend. That must have been nice; are you from around there?"_

_Sam looked down at her plate quietly for a moment before looking up at the woman who had grown up on Fifth Avenue and met her husband when they were both students at Andover. "I grew up in Kenosha; it's just a few hours away in Wisconsin. My sister lives in Ohio now, she's an English professor, but my mom is still in Kenosha."_

_She smiled to herself, realizing how proud she felt of her mother and her sister for everything they had accomplished in their lives. Lindsey had joined her and her mother in Chicago and they spent one evening out picking out bridesmaids' dresses for Betsy's upcoming wedding and chatting and catching up while Martin spent a quiet evening in with his family after the Christening crowds had dispersed. The old wounds were beginning to heal, and she felt a tremendous sense of peace at having her mother and sister back in her life. Being at odds with them had been a source of tension deep within her that she didn't even realize had been affecting her so immensely until it resolved on its own._

_Colin Adair looked up as though he was going to add something to the conversation, but they all turned suddenly as they heard a loud crash as fine china and glass hit the floor and shattered into tiny pieces. Someone had shoved a waiter and knocked him off balance, and he had toppled over onto the floor taking a tray full of food with him._

_The guilty party shamelessly began to snap photos, the flash going off with each click of the camera. Sam looked around, scanning to see what he could have been so anxious to get pictures of until it suddenly dawned on her that the camera was pointed directly at them, that he was pushing the waiter out of the way so that he could get through the door and into the private room where they were dining._

_Hotel security quickly was on the scene, forcefully escorting the paparazzi out of the restaurant and taking his camera into custody._

_Within minutes, the hotel manager had approached the table, apologizing profusely for the interruption and for the lapse in security that let the paparazzi into the restaurant unknowingly. He explained that the basketball star Randall Corey was staying in the hotel with his new wife and that the paparazzi were hanging close to try to get a shot of them together as they headed off to their honeymoon, and he assured them that when they were ready to leave, arrangements would be made to get them out a back entrance where they would not be bothered._

xx

"We went out the service entrance, but there were still a couple of them there," Sam finished, folding her arms across her chest and shivering in the cool morning air.

Danny smirked triumphantly as she finished her story, and Sam knew she wasn't going to be hearing the end of this for awhile. "Our own mini-celebrity," he clucked with elation. Shaking his head and still grinning to himself, he pulled out a picture from his inner jacket pocket. "You don't happen to remember this man as one of the paparazzi from the alleyway, do you?"

She took the photo by the edges and examined it closely. "No," she said finally, "There were two guys back there; one was older, maybe early fifties and the other was younger and had blond hair. Randall Corey was making his exit at the same time, and they ran off to try to get in on that."

"You know I had to ask," he replied, shrugging.

"I know," she agreed. She glanced around the hotel and saw the alleyway that lead to both the side and freight entrances. "I tell you what, why don't I go around back and see if I can find anything."

"And I am going to head back inside to see if Naomi managed to get those surveillance tapes from security yet," he said, "If this guy decided to just run it's none of our business, but the ex-wife is worried as hell and we have to make sure we don't overlook anything."

"It was pure chaos on the street when Corey was leaving," she reflected quietly. "If someone wanted to hurt him, they could have easily slipped away unnoticed."

She left Danny to return to interviewing the doorman and made her way around to the side alleyway, where she began to crouch down and search for any evidence of foul play. Beside a garbage dumpster, she bent down when she noticed a camera laying out in the open, although it was hidden from plain sight by the shadows cast over it.

She pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket and put them on before lifting the camera to study it more closely. The lens was cracked and there was a trace substance that appeared to be blood; when she flipped the camera open, she found the Smart Card missing.

She sighed; maybe this wasn't going to be the slam dunk case that she thought. So she tightened her grip on the camera and went back out to the street.

She was going to need an evidence bag.

xxxxx


	58. Chapter 57

xxxxx

_**chapter fifty-seven**_

xxxxx

_the situation's always the same  
you got your wolves in their clothes whispering hollywood's name  
stealing gold from the silver they see  
but it's not me_  
-Sara Bareilles, "City"

xx

_2:30 pm_

Vivian sat the conference table, pouring over a stack of paperwork that appeared to be bank and phone records when Sam and Naomi reentered the bullpen. Both women carried large cardboard boxes full of photographs and negatives that they got from Mark Roche, Brian's tabloid editor. Sam set her box down on the table with a resounding thud, breaking Viv's concentration and causing her to look up suddenly.

"What's all that?" she asked and motioned towards the boxes.

"Photos, negatives," Naomi explained, setting her box down in a much quieter fashion, "All of Brian's work from the last eight months."

Sam slid the lid off of the first box and continued, "We figured we would bring them back here and organize them based on the degree of scandal; maybe then we can get an idea of anyone who might have had a reason to want to take him down a notch or two."

Vivian nodded and replied, "Did you get anything else from Roche?"

"Not really," Sam shook her head and glanced over the top of the box and to the paperwork Viv was sorting through. "What about you?"

"A couple of cash deposits, but nothing else that jumps out at me."

Naomi slid the second box forward and sat down beside Vivian. "Want to help us sort?"

Viv looked up and smiled conspiratorially and replied, "You bet."

Sam emptied the contents of both boxes onto the conference table, and the three women began to sort through Brian's photographs. Sam felt herself conflicted as she sorted through photo after photo, looking through private moments of other people's lives. In the past, she always found leafing through photos in the tabloids to be a guilty pleasure, secretly enjoying the insider shots of everything from honeymoons to scandals. It somehow made her feel better about her own life that she was not the only dysfunctional person in the world.

But now she had been on the receiving end of the whole machine, and she felt genuinely guilty for having fed into it in the first place. She was by no means a particularly recognizable figure on her own, but the more she was seen with Martin, the more paranoid she felt herself getting if a passerby on the street lingered to look for a split second too long.

Naomi looked up and waved a photo in the air. "Who's got the female nudity pile?" she asked, "I've got Natalie Portman topless."

"You mean the pictures Danny is going to want copies of?" Sam grinned and watched intently as Naomi rolled her eyes. "That would be me."

As she reached across the table to take the photo from Naomi, she noticed that Vivian was entirely distracted by a set of photos that she held close to her chest. Viv frowned, shuffling the photos back and forth, and Sam looked at her curiously.

"Have you got something, Viv?"

Viv looked up and met Sam's eyes almost hesitantly. "Yes and no."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

Viv sighed heavily and laid the photographs out on the table between them. They were slick and glossy, and the fluorescent ceiling lights reflected off of them as Sam leaned forward to take a closer look.

"Sam," Naomi exclaimed breathlessly, "These are pictures of _you_!"

Sam picked up the photographs and slowly flipped through the series one at a time, aware that both Viv and Naomi were watching her with a curious, intense gaze, waiting for her reaction.

There were over fifteen photos of her and Martin.

Eating dinner together at an outdoor café on a particularly sunny day in the fall.

Running together early on a Saturday morning as had become their custom.

Another as they came to a stop, Sam's leg cramping up on her as it sometimes still did.

The night they got box seats to see Wicked with Caroline, Tim, and some of Martin's friends from college.

Together at the Statewide Democratic Party Dinner in the beginning of January.

Attending a benefit dinner for Breast Cancer research as one of the guests of honor just a few nights later.

She sighed and set the photographs back down on the table. She set her shoulders back resolutely and met Viv and Naomi's gaze, determined not to shy away from this. Whatever 'this' was.

"Are you alright?" Naomi asked, concern for her friend evident in her voice.

"Yeah," she exhaled and set the photographs to one side. "I think I'm going to hang on to these for now." She shuddered inwardly as she remembered the way Mark Roche eyed her when she and Naomi went to interview him, as though he knew something she didn't. Now she understood.

Naomi stood up from the table and said, "I think I'm going to get some coffee. Do either of you want any?"

She waited for Sam and Vivian's affirmative response before retreating to the break room.

Vivian looked across the table with a soft, motherly expression. "You didn't know about those pictures, did you?" she asked.

She shook her head and inhaled sharply. "I had no idea," she replied, holding her arms protectively close to her upper body.

Viv picked up the photographs and held them carefully in her hands. "We're on your side, Samantha. I understand why you want to hide from everyone else, but you don't have to hide from us."

Sam felt her knee jigging up and down nervously. She forcefully steadied it and replied, "I know."

"He seems like a good man," Vivian offered, smiling at her friend. "His heart always seems like it's in the right place."

Sam smiled to herself and relaxed against the back of her chair. "He's got the disposition and the willpower for politics, but he wears his heart on his sleeve. I remind him that he believes too much in the good of every man." Sam raised her eyebrows and made eye contact with Vivian, a scheming smile tugging at her lips. "He tells me that's why he keeps _me_ around, that pessimism is what I'm good for."

Viv smiled and raised her head, "And what do you say to that?"

"I tell him that it's realism, not pessimism, and he's lucky I stick around to keep him in line."

Viv laughed. "You tell him, Sam."

xx

_January 25, 2004  
4:00 pm_

Sam shut the front door behind her and turned the dead bolt before slipping off her navy blue FBI jacket and hanging it in the front closet. She slipped off her shoes and padded softly up the stairwell and into Martin's room, where she found him sitting up in bed, reading over policy files and watching ESPN's Super Bowl preview. He looked up as she entered and put his files to the side, setting them down carefully on his nightstand. He picked up the remote and the sound on the television clicked off.

She gave him a tight smile and lay down on the bed beside him.

"Rough day?" he asked, running his palm along her shoulder. She lifted her head off of the bed and met his eyes before folding her arm underneath her. "What happened when you and Naomi went up to Ashton?"

Sam sighed, swallowing hard as she braced herself. "We found him by Hugo Wyland's vacation cabin," she said. Martin looked at her curiously, and she fought the tears that threatened at the corners of her eyes as she began to explain everything that had happened over the past two days. From finding the photographs of them together to how she connected the mystery woman in the photographs that Eric Larson took to the woman in the Planet Rescue protest, and how that led them to go to Ashton that morning to investigate.

He rubbed her back supportively and listened with rapt attention as she explained what was really going on at the Wyland Industries Plant in Ashton and how 26 children in the neighborhood were being treated for various kinds of cancer because Wyland Industries was dumping untreated waste in the storm drains.

When she finished, she saw the look of shock and abhorrence on Martin's face as he asked if they had already taken Hugo Wyland into custody. His repugnance only multiplied when she recalled the conversation she had with Jack just before she left the office for the afternoon after returning from the hospital.

xx

_Sam stopped in her tracks as she watched through the glass windows into Jack's office where Jack was handing Mike Carter a large file folder before shaking hands. Carter left the office and, seeing her chance, stepped forward and rapped softly on Jack's office door before entering._

_"He's in surgery now, but they think they're going to be able to save his leg. The orthopedic surgeon... he's a friend of Caroline Fitzgerald's. He promised to give me an update when he got out of surgery, but it looks like he's going to be okay."_

_"That's good news," Jack nodded solemnly before motioning to the door to the direction that Mike Carter had gone. "He's going to be on Carter's list now, but I don't think he'll mind."_

_"Not really," she replied. "What's the next step, Jack? Do we bring in Wyland and the foundry now?"_

_Jack held a pen in his hand and he clicked the top once before declaring, "We move on; the case is closed."_

_Sam felt her spirits fall, realizing that Wyland must have bought someone off in Washington in order to keep the whole thing under wraps. But after meeting Mrs. Wilson, seeing the direct consequences of Wyland Industries' actions, Sam could not just let it drop. There was nothing that could be done to bring Sean Wilson back or to improve the odds for the 26 other children who were now fighting cancer, but they had to do something to prevent this from happening to anyone else._

_"That's it, then?" she said, crossing her arms defensively and holding them close to her chest. "We got the call from Washington so now we're just going to give up?"_

_"Samantha," he warned. "This is real life, not Erin Brockovich. It's not that easy."_

_"I never said it would be," she replied icily, feeling suddenly threatened. "But if you're just going to let some petty bureaucrats push you around, then you're not the man I gave you credit for."_

_She knew that she hit a nerve when Jack visibly flinched and withdrew. He inhaled and set his pen down on the desk and said, "Well, you know people in Washington. Make some calls."_

_Sam frowned. "Don't make it about that, Jack. This has nothing to do with Martin and everything to do with the fact that Guthrie was right: Wyland is untouchable."_

_"There's no use on this one, Sam. It is what it is, and nothing is going to change that."_

_Sam turned and put one hand on the doorknob before turning back to him. "Maybe you're right," she replied, "but that's not going to stop me from trying."_

xx

"I want to help," Martin said, sitting up in bed. "I have connections. I can get them to run Brian's pictures on the front page; I can make it an issue that people will care about."

Sam shifted in bed and sat up against the headboard, feeling instantaneously better by his unwavering support. "What do you think we could do about it?"

He sat still for a minute and carefully considered their possible options before replying, "We could go a few different routes. I'll want to consult with my staff to play up the best angles, but first I think it would be helpful if we could figure out who Wyland bought out to keep it quiet."

"That's going to be harder than it sounds," Sam said. "We can't blanket subpoena every politician and lobbyist in Washington."

Martin nodded. "I have a few ideas. When I get back to Washington tomorrow morning, I'll look into it and let you know."

"Do it as fast as you can," she agreed, smiling softly back at him. "I checked the weather reports for Ashton..." she hesitated, breathing deeply as she paused for emphasis, "They're expecting heavy rain next weekend."

xxxxx


	59. Chapter 58

xxxxx

_**chapter fifty-eight**_

xxxxx

_sweep it into the corner  
or hide it under the bed  
__say these things they go away  
but they never do_  
-Keane, "This Is The Last Time"

xx

_January 28, 2004  
4:30 pm_

Sam flipped her pen anxiously in her hand as she scanned over her latest field report, giving it one last read-over before scrawling her signature and the date on the line at the bottom of the page. It had taken her three days of stalling, but she finally settled her resolve on finishing the report when Martin sent her several articles pertaining to Wyland Industries that he pulled off of Lexus Nexus. Short newspaper clippings referencing Wyland's presence at several political fundraisers and events, but although she could sense that they were close, they did not yet have enough information to hang him with.

She, like Martin, suspected that Wyland had found some covert method of contributing illegally to re-election campaigns in order to buy off votes and keep Washington quiet. For the time being however, they decided to keep everything quiet until they got confirmation. Martin had spoken to a friend he had at the New York Times who was prepared to run the story on the front page as soon as they had substantive sources for a front page article.

She rose from her desk and strode purposefully to Jack's office, field report in hand. The office was empty as Jack was attending the weekly SAC's meeting that had been rescheduled for this afternoon, so Sam let herself inside the darkened office and placed the report on top of Jack's in tray.

Sitting back down at her desk, she opened her email and scanned through the new messages as she tried to kill the last few minutes before they were free to go home for the afternoon. Her eyes immediately fell on a new email from Martin, and she opened it with a quick glance over her shoulder.

It was short and straight to the point, obviously written in a hurry.

_Sam-_

_I'll be on the next flight as soon as we vote on 302. I'm hoping to make the out of Dulles on the 2:40 and get into La Guardia at 4:13. Hang close to the office if you can, I think I might have something. Rick, Anna, and John are coming with me._

_Martin_

Sam closed the email quickly, her mind racing with the possibilities. It must be something important if he was bringing his three closest advisors with him; Rick Harvey was his press secretary, Anna Meyendorf was his chief counsel, and John Holmquist was his new chief of staff of just a few months. John had actually been a college friend of Martin's who had been working for a political consulting firm before Martin's former chief of staff, a man who had been a recommendation of his father's, decided to retire following a series of small strokes.

She released a heavy sigh and rubbed her temple, oblivious to the presence behind her.

"For someone who isn't in the middle of working on a big case right now, you look like you've got a lot on your mind."

Sam craned her neck as she heard Viv's soft voice echoing with concern, and Danny just a few steps behind.

"I don't know," Sam replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

"You don't know?" Danny teased; his voice was light and his smirk evident. "Sudden problems with a split personality?"

Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head in spite of herself. "It's nothing," she smiled, "I'll find out later."

"Later?" Viv gave her a knowing look. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you still have the files on Wyland, would it?"

"How did you know?"

Viv leaned forward and squeezed Sam's shoulder reassuringly. "I had a feeling," she replied. "I was just wondering when you were going to give the rest of us a chance to pitch in."

"You want to help?"

Danny raised an eyebrow, "_Por supuesto, linda_. We're in this together."

xx

_6:00 pm_

Martin got through security without any problems and quickly darted into the elevator so as to avoid the curious stares of any of the busybody tourists or guests who might still be in the building. John stood beside him, but Anna and Rick had gone directly over to his New York offices to start preparing for any potential media fallout that could come if the story broke.

The elevator jolted to a stop at Sam's floor and the doors slowly slid open.

Martin felt John's eyes on him as he said, "So I finally get to meet the famous Samantha?"

Martin shrugged but couldn't fight the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. "I guess you do."

"She must be pretty special if she's willing to put up with you, Martin," he laughed.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Sam interjects, her eyes sparkling as she comes up behind the two men and takes them by surprise. "I'm Samantha; you must be John."

"It's good to finally meet you." John winked, "You're a braver soul than most."

"Don't I know it." Sam smirked.

"Please don't give her ideas," Martin groaned good-naturedly as he sought out her hand.

"Anyway," Sam smiled and turned on her heels, gesturing with one hand for them to follow her into the bullpen. "Down to business. What do you have for us?"

Martin shuffled carefully into step behind her, eyes scanning the bullpen as she returned to her desk. She sat in her chair and spun around, her blonde hair falling haphazardly around her shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Danny emerge from the break room, the door swinging furiously on its hinges as Naomi followed close on Danny's heels. "Us?" he asked, suddenly realizing her choice of words.

Sam tilted her neck and looked up at him. "Danny, Naomi and Viv found out that we've been looking into Wyland a little bit further, and they wanted to stick around and see if they could help," she explained matter-of-factly.

Within a matter of minutes, Danny, Vivian, Naomi and Sam had gathered around the table in the center of the bullpen, notepads out and pens ready. Vivian assumed the de facto leadership of the group as she said, "Sam already filled us in on what you two have been looking at, but she didn't know what it was that you found that brought you back to New York."

Martin joined them around the table and cast a quick glance in Sam's direction before beginning to recount the unusual events of the morning that led him to his sudden change of plans and arrival in New York.

xx

_Martin leaned forward against his desk and sighed quietly, holding the phone away from his ear as he listened to Edward McCloud, a senior Republican Senator from Minnesota, ramble on in the attempts to strike a deal on 302._

_He looked up as a knock echoed from against his office door. "Come in," he prompted as he covered the receiver with one hand._

_The door creaked open and Beverly popped her head in. "John Holmquist brought one of your interns here to see you; he says it's important."_

_Martin nodded in acknowledgement and held up his hand to motion that he would be with them in just a few minutes, and Beverly shut the door quietly behind her._

_Bringing the phone back to his ear, Martin groaned inwardly as he heard McCloud still continuing incessantly on the other end of the line. "Listen, Edward," Martin interrupted finally. "If you wanted something from me you should have come to me more than an hour before the final vote is scheduled. This bill is going to pass regardless; you lost. I'll see you at roll call."_

_Without another word, Martin placed the phone back on his desk and activated the intercom to buzz John in to his office._

_"Good morning, Senator," John grinned broadly back at his friend. John was a tall man with brown hair and brown eyes, and he absolutely thrived on the energy and fast pace of Washington politics. Though John had not been among Martin's closest friends in college, they were in several classes together and always were able to identify with one another as two young men who were trying to find their own way in the vision their parents held for them. And when Martin's former Chief of Staff retired, John had been the first person put on the short list to replace him._

_"Good morning, John," Martin greeted his friend. "You said you had something important before the vote?"_

_"I just heard from Ziletti at the White House. It's going to pass 62-38, easy," John replied. "But that's not why I'm here." He turned to the intern that stood beside him. "Senator, this is Josh Clarence. He's working with our office this semester while he is preparing to start his senior honors research at Georgetown."_

_"It's a pleasure to meet you, Josh," Martin replied, stepping forward to shake Josh's hand. "Are you enjoying your time with us so far?"_

_"Definitely. It's been a great opportunity," Josh nodded his head with conviction. He smiled shyly and in his clean-cut jacket, tie, and slacks, reminded Martin a lot of himself when he spent a summer interning for the now-retired Senator Jackson of Virginia, an old friend of his father's._

_"That's good to hear."_

_"Josh was a page for Senator McCloud when he was a junior in high school," John folded his arms across his chest emphatically as he began to explain. "When he found out that we were looking into Wyland, he came to me..." John turned to his left and motioned to the young intern. "Go ahead, Josh. Tell him what you told me."_

_"I uh, I'm not sure about this. I mean, I had only been there for a week or so when this happened..." Josh began, stuttering uncertainly. It was obvious that he was nervous and felt out of place._

_"It's okay, Josh," John prompted. "Just tell him what you saw."_

_Martin smiled encouragingly at the boy and he continued, "Well, it was the first night that I had to stay really late because they were trying to override the veto on the Repeal of the Environmental Safety and Procedures Act. Jennifer, Senator McCloud's secretary, got a fax from Wyland Industries at the last second and she made me run it to the Senator before the vote went down. I know I wasn't supposed to look at it, but I slipped on the wet floors and I happened to see a couple of pages..." Josh paused and took a deep breath in to steady himself. Looking Martin straight in the eye, he continued in a much firmer voice, "There was a copy of a bank transfer to an account in the name of Henry Jamison. I didn't think much of it at the time... but eventually I learned that Jamison is one of the names that Senator McCloud uses when he wants to arrive somewhere anonymously." Josh released a heavy breath and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe it's nothing, but I remember running a lot of confidential messages from Mr. Wyland while I was working for Senator McCloud."_

_Martin met John's eyes for a half a second, and an understanding passed between the two of them. This could be their big break if they really wanted Wyland to be brought to justice._

_"Josh," he started finally, after a few minutes of letting this new revelation sink in. "You want to work in Washington one day, don't you?"_

_"I do, Senator. Very much so."_

_"Well, I'd have to say that you're off to a very strong start."_

xx

Martin finished telling them what he knew, and he watched as each member of the team silently focused in on what he was telling them. He could see each one of them beginning to form conjectures, the wheels in their heads turning with ideas.

Finally Sam caught his eyes as she spoke up. "Well," she began "I guess now we have something solid to look for."

xxxxx


	60. Chapter 59

xxxxx

_**chapter fifty-nine**_

xxxxx

_i'm 'round the corner from anything that's real_  
_i'm across the road from hope_  
_i'm under a bridge in a rip tide_  
_that's taken everything i call my own_  
-U2, "One Step Closer"

xx

_6:45 pm_

Martin sat at Sam's desk reading through the late afternoon news cycle, taking special note of the stories about the Senate passing 302 and the bill immediately being signed by President Bartlett. He kept himself occupied while John was on the phone with Anna at his office and Sam and the rest of the team tracked down leads. Danny and Sam just returned with the subpoenas for bank records under all of Senator McCloud's aliases, and the rest of the team was searching the Bureau's database to track any off-shore accounts Wyland might have been able to funnel large amounts of money through.

He was not very focused on the news reports however, instead mainly watching the team as they poured over files and records as they tracked down leads. It was a rare first-hand look into Sam's everyday life, and the closeness that the team definitely shared.

His leg rocked back and forth and, needing something to do to occupy himself, he rose and decided to get himself some coffee. He had just reached the door of the break room when he heard footsteps echoing down the hallway.

"What's going on here?" Jack Malone said, giving Martin a curious look. "Senator, is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong." Martin replied with one hand still firmly planted against the break room door. "I'm just in town helping Sam follow up on Hugo Wyland."

Jack rubbed his chin, nodding slowly. "So she got you involved?"

Martin shrugged. "I wanted to be involved. After all, these people are my constituents; it's my job to protect them."

"Right," Jack replied. "Of course. What do your colleagues in Washington think of this?"

"It doesn't matter what they think," Martin sighed and ran his free hand along the back of his neck. "People deserve to know the truth; no one should be untouchable."

Jack chuckled quietly, and his lips curled upward in a half-smile. "I've got to hand it to you, Senator. You've got guts." He paused for a beat, resting his hands on his hips. There was a glint in his eyes as he continued, "I'm probably going to regret saying this in a few days when my bosses have my head on a plate, but is there anything I can do to help?"

Martin smiled. "Trust me when I say that the only people with their head on a plate when all this is over should be Wyland and anyone he's bought favors from."

"Good."

Both men turned their heads as there was shuffling in the bullpen. Everyone had crowded in front of Danny's computer and spoke quickly amongst each other.

Martin immediately forgot about the coffee and shuffled quickly back into the bullpen with Jack just a step behind him. "What's going on?" he asked.

Sam turned around and made eye contact with him as she said, "This is it; we've got him."

xx

_10:30 pm_

Martin sat on the sofa in Jack's office as John and Anna worked at Jack's desk, both silently leaning in to Jack's computer, their brows furrowed in concentration.

After uncovering the off-shore account under the name of Hugo Wyland's long-deceased younger brother, Vivian and Jack went down to Wyland industries as a last-ditch attempt to get him to talk. They were originally going to take Sam as well, as she was the one who kept the investigation going, but Sean's mother, Elizabeth Wilson, was coming in from Ashton with several other parents who had sick children, and Sam decided instead that she wanted to be there when they arrived. In the meantime, she was working on an addendum to her case report out in the bullpen with Danny and Naomi.

He watched as Sam pushed her chair out and rose from her desk, walking deliberately towards the office. He felt the family quickening of his pulse as she caught his eye and smiled at him, walking to the office door as she let herself in.

"You look busy," she grinned, and the couch dipped as she sat down beside him. "Contributing to the team, I see."

He smiled back and raised his eyebrow. "As always, my job is to sit in the corner and stay out of everyone else's way."

She leaned in to him, and a loose strand of hair fell in front of her face. "Fortunately you do your job very well," she retorted, her body radiating her satisfaction in their success.

He reached for her hand and replied, "Then we make a great team."

"That we do," she nodded.

At that moment, Anna looked up from the desk. "Senator, Agent Spade," she motioned with one hand to the computer screen and inhaled deeply, "Are you ready? Because there's no turning back now; the Times article just went up online. It should only be hours before the Associated Press picks up the story, and by tomorrow morning it should be the front page story on every paper in the country."

"There's really nothing else we can do tonight," John added. "I would suggest that we all try to head home and get some rest because it's going to be a very busy, very early morning for all of us." He paused for a beat and looked down at where Martin and Sam sat side by side, and then added, "Especially for you two."

xx

_January 29, 2004_  
_5:30 am_

_WYLAND INDUSTRIES DUMPS WASTE, LINKED TO CANCER_

_By Jim Delany, Senior Correspondent_

_FOR YEARS Wyland Industries has been heralded as one of the leading privately-owned business in charitable giving, philanthropy, and community involvement. However the Ashton-based industry, founded and owned by Hugo Wyland, has been found at the heart of a decade-long conspiracy to cover up the dumping of toxic waste at the site of the foundry. The waste travels downstream into the suburbs, where the children of Ashton frequently play during the long summer months. Of the small Ashton community, 26 children are currently being treated for several different kinds of cancer that are likely linked to the very river where these children often play._

_It all started out so innocently for Sean Wilson; he came home one night with a few extra scrapes and bruises after playing in a Little League game. His mother thought nothing of it initially and chalked it up to a near-miss collision at home plate, but Sean's sudden easy bruising gave way to constant fatigue and frequent heavy nosebleeds. After a few weeks, his mother took him to the pediatrician, who referred her immediately to Dr. Yao at St. Andrew's Hospital. Dr. Yao is a pediatric oncologist who specializes in leukemia, cancer of the blood and bone marrow. She ran several tests and finally the diagnosis came back; Sean had Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia, a particularly rare and aggressive form of leukemia. Sean fought a long and hard battle, but he succumbed to the disease one year ago. He was only 10 years old._

_Sean is not the only Ashton area child who has suffered the same fate. There are current 26 children in this small suburb being treated for various forms of leukemia, lymphoma, and rare brain tumors, and all 26 enjoyed spending their summers playing outside in the park -- and swimming in the river. The physicians at St. Andrew's Hospital suspect that the rare genetic mutations isolated in all 26 of these children can be traced back to the toxins they were exposed to while innocently spending leisure time swimming each summer._

_"You don't even think about it," Elizabeth Wilson, Sean's mother, said late yesterday evening. "You see Hugo Wyland in the papers, giving to this charity and that relief fund, and you just assume that he is as good as his word, that he's protecting your community and your family. But it turns out that the truth is only worth the amount of money you're willing to pay for it."_

_Wilson holds herself with an air of resilience that can only be possessed by a woman who has already suffered so much -- not only did she lose her only son, but when she tried to learn the truth about what happened to him, she encountered road blocks wherever she went. "No one really wanted to hear anything I had to say for a long time."_

_She took her story to several environmental action groups, and although several helped her file her concerns with the EPA, nothing ever happened until she met a photographer named Brian Owen, better known as a paparazzi linked to countless celebrity exclusives. Owen took a special interest in Sean Wilson and worked tirelessly to get the very photographs that would prove Wyland Industries was intentionally dumping excess waste._

_In the end however, it was not until Owen went missing and the FBI became involved that Elizabeth Wilson was able to find a way to have her story heard. The FBI team investigating Owen's disappearance included none other than Agent Samantha Spade, more popularly known as the woman who is involved with New York's popular young Senator, Martin Fitzgerald, the son of the FBI's Deputy Director._

_The work of Agent Spade and the rest of her team uncovered the existence of an off-shore trust fund, set up in the name of Edward Wyland, Hugo's younger brother who died at age 3, coincidentally of an advanced of the cancer neuroblastoma. Wyland has been using money from that account to buy favors from some of Washington's most influential politicians, including but not limited to Senator McCloud (R) of Texas, Chairman of the Senate Finance Committee, Senator Joseph Brazynski (D) of Oregon, Congressman Roger Jenkins (D) of the California 31st District, Governor Juanita Bailey (R) of Ohio, and Former Vice President Howard Little (R). These payments date back as early as 13 years ago, and there is no telling as to how many others have been influenced by Wyland's donations._

Martin leaned against the door jamb and watched as Samantha read the Times' front page article, and his own fist clenched tighter around the copy of the article that came across his fax machine in the middle of the night. From where she sat at the kitchen counter with her back turned to him, she seemed to sense his presence and her head whirled around. "Well," she commented as she placed the front page of the New York Times back down on the counter top, "I think we've successfully opened that can of worms."

Martin watched her sitting at his kitchen counter in her bathrobe, newspaper in one hand and coffee mug clasped firmly in the other. She wore his navy blue terry cloth bathrobe that was several sizes too big, and she was the picture of happiness in spite of the hint of dark circles forming under her eyes. In spite of John's warnings the night before, Sam had wanted to stay until Elizabeth Wilson had arrived at the FBI building and had a chance to talk to the reporter at the New York Times who was writing the story. They had just recently awoken when his cell phone rang; Anna was already getting frantic phone calls from a variety of both political allies and foes. She wanted to get him into the office as soon as possible to schedule a conference call with the President and his staff; this had all the makings and potential of a prime time national political scandal.

"You look inordinately pleased with yourself," he replied as he approached the counter and leaned down to kiss her good morning. "I see you've found the article."

"I did," she nodded and set her cup down on the counter top with a soft clinking noise. "I found it to be very complementary, particularly the part where I am 'the woman involved with popular Senator Martin Fitzgerald.'"

Martin rolled his eyes and waved his hands at her air quotes. "If only they knew the truth."

He sat on the stool next to her and stared long and hard at the front page article of the New York Times, complete with photos by Brian Owen himself. He let out a sigh and felt Sam touch his arm gently.

"It's going to be hard, isn't it?" she asked, her eyes narrow and concern etched across her face.

"It is," he answered, reaching for her hand and clasping it in his. "But it was the right thing to do. No matter what happens, I'm glad you came to me with this."

"I am too," she said softly. "We make a good team."

He smiled. "The best."

xxxxx

Thanks to everyone who has waited so patiently for me to update this. I'm a little faster at getting this up at Destinedto, but I promise to try to catch up here as well as soon as I can. --spyglass


	61. Chapter 60

xxxxx

**_chapter sixty_**

xxxxx

_oh what good is it to live_  
_with nothing left to give_  
_forget but not forgive_  
_not loving all you see_

_the streets you're walking on_  
_a thousand houses long_  
_well that's where i belong_  
_and you belong with me_  
--Coldplay, "Swallowed in the Sea"

xx

_February 3rd, 2004_  
_10:55 am_

Sam shut the car door forcefully behind her and glanced across the top of the car as Martin did the same. One of his new secret service agents got out of the front seat beside the driver and walked on ahead of them through the front doors of St. Andrew's Hospital in Ashton. As she and Martin scaled the front steps of the hospital building, the clear glass doors opened and a middle-aged man with graying hair walked out to welcome them.

The man wore black dress pants and a white physician's coat, and he reached a hand out to greet them. "Senator Fitzgerald, Agent Spade," he said, shaking each of their hands. "I'm Michael Graves, medical director here at St. Andrew's. It's wonderful to meet both of you."

Sam nodded her acknowledgement as Martin returned formal pleasantries; it still struck her as strange when, on occasion, people recognized her without an introduction.

Dr. Graves led them through several corridors and up in an elevator, all the while making small talk that Sam was tuning out. She was absolutely exhausted, and Martin was even worse. Over the past five days, he had flown back and forth from DC several times for emergency closed-door meetings with the President, along with Senator Adair; Congressman Marshall, the Representative for Ashton's district; and New York's Governor Feldman. The EPA temporarily shut down Wyland Industries pending a full investigation of all activities, and several prominent lawyers had already offered to help the citizens of Ashton file suit against the company.

They stopped in front of a set of heavy doors marked 'Pediatric Oncology' before Dr. Graves waved his badge against a sensor on the wall. There was a heavy click and the doors swung open automatically. Dr. Graves turned and motioned with his hands, ushering them through.

The halls ahead were blank and white and eerily quiet. As Sam's eyes scanned the hospital corridor, there was only one word that came to mind and that was 'sterile'.

Dr. Graves carried himself with the air of an administrator, very polite but very formal, and Sam felt slightly out of place in his presence. He turned to face the two of them and cleared his throat as he announced, "This is our Pediatric Oncology Ward. It's pretty quiet today, but we've, uh... we've been crowded in here recently."

She felt Martin brush closer against her side, clasping her hand as he solemnly nodded. "Of course. We understand."

Graves seemed anxious as he stood in front of them, almost nervous. He furrowed his brow and lost his administrative composure for a beat as he added softly, "I want to thank you both for coming down here to meet with some of the families. I can't begin to tell you what a relief it has been for them, to just have some validate the reason behind all of their suffering and to bring Hugo Wyland the justice he deserves."

"We're happy to be here," Martin replied. "We'll never be able to bring Wyland the full extent of the justice he deserves, but at least this is as start."

Nodding once in agreement, Graves led them over to a small room at the end of the corridor. In contrast to the stark white walls of the hallway, this room was decorated in soft pastel colors and lined with children's artwork. Two large sofas at against the far wall underneath the window, and there were several tables and cabinets lined with art supplies. "This is our art therapy room," Graves announced as he motioned to the easel in the corner. "If you'd like to just take a seat here, I'm going to go see who is feeling up to a visit."

Once Graves left them alone in the room, Martin released a long sigh and walked past her to sit on the sofa. She took a few steps to join him, but then one of the pictures on the wall caught her eye. She stepped closer, narrowing her eyes as she peered in at the child's drawing: an obviously balding man stood in the foreground, holding a camera and smiling broadly. In the corner, the artist scribbled his name in an unsteady, irregular child's scrawl: Sean, 2002.

Sam drew in a sharp breath and subconsciously fingered the outlines of the child's signature. She heard Martin shift, rising from where he sat and shuffling over towards her, but she found herself captivated by the child's artwork.

"What is it, Samantha?" Martin asked softly, looking in over her shoulder.

"I think," Sam sighed, biting her lower lip as she breathed in reply, "that Sean Wilson drew this - probably not long before he died."

Martin shifted his weight beside her to take a closer look at the picture. "I think you're right." He took her hand in his and silently led her back to the sofa. "Are you doing alright?" he asked, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, idly folding her spare hand in her lap. She craned her neck to look up at him and said, "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one who's been back and forth between here and DC three times in the last week."

He shrugged and shook his head slowly. "I'm used to that," he offered.

"Have you heard back from your father yet?" Beside her, Sam felt Martin tense up. He and Victor exchanged harsh words over the phone the day the Wyland story broke in the Times, but as far as she knew, Martin had not been back in touch with his father since then.

"We've been playing phone tag via our secretaries," he answered. He paused for a beat, a sheepish expression crossing his face, and he added, "I should probably send some flowers to both Margaret and Beverly, who have both been on the receiving end of my father's wrath this week."

Sam chuckled at his own self-deprecation, a smile tugging at her lips, and she asked, "What about Anna? Has she forgiven you yet?"

Martin laughed. "She's been huffing around, but she'll get over it. She always does."

When Anna found out that they were planning to make this trip to visit some of the Ashton families, she immediately began insisting that she be allowed to arrange a few photo ops. Martin's vehement refusal of her suggestion was met with heated disapproval on Anna's part, but Martin insisted that this was a personal trip and he did not want to use it for any sort of political gain.

There was a knock at the door, and they both looked up as Dr. Graves appeared in the door frame. "Senator Fitzgerald, Agent Spade," he said quietly, clearing his throat, "We're ready for you."

xx

_6:00 pm_

Sam padded out of the bathroom and into the closet, rifling through her clothes until she found a blouse to wear with her jeans. Glancing around for a moment, she realized that the closet was now become overrun with her things as well as Martin's. When they first started dating, Martin's New York home had been remarkably empty as he rarely stayed here for more than a night or two at a time and, even if he did, he had very little reason to leave many of his things here. It seemed like half a lifetime ago now, as she found herself staying here just as often as she stayed in her own apartment.

Shutting the closet door behind her, she finished getting dressed and pulled her still-damp hair back in a ponytail before heading down the hall to put her sweaty clothes in the laundry. They had arrived back at Martin's a little over an hour ago, and she chose to go out for a run so that she was out of the way when Anna and Rick arrived to talk about Martin's upcoming agenda.

To be honest, after the time they spent at St. Andrew's earlier that afternoon, Sam felt the need to get out and run, expend some energy and process what she had seen.

xx

_The instant that Sam and Martin walked into the room, the entire family looked up and began to stare. With the careful surveillance of a federal agent, Sam took in the people before them as Martin stepped forward and introduced them._

_"Hey there," he began, turning towards the patient lying in the bed. The little girl, who looked no more than ten although Dr. Graves mentioned that she was actually thirteen, looked thin, weak, and extremely frail. "You must be Sara. I'm Martin, and this is Samantha."_

_Sara coughed and meekly replied, "Hi."_

_"Senator Fitzgerald, Agent Spade." The woman sitting at Sara's bedside rose and stepped forward to shake their hands. "I'm -- I'm Katherine Morris, Sara's mom, and this is my husband Jack." Her husband gave a small nod of his head._

_"It's a pleasure to meet you," Martin gave her a soft smile in reply. "Though I wish it could be under better circumstances."_

_"Likewise," Jack Morris echoed Martin's sentiments._

_Sam hung back just slightly, overwhelmed and unsure of how to respond; she waited to follow Martin's lead._

_Katherine glanced back at her daughter before giving Sam and Martin a long look and said, choking back tears, "I just wanted to tell you how much it means to us, what you risked to come out with the truth. This -- what's happened to our family and to so many of our neighbors -- no one deserves that." She paused, breathing deeply as she reached out for her husband's hand. "I don't know if the doctors already told you, but we've already lost one daughter, Sara's younger sister Elisabeth. They were only a year apart, and they did everything together... They played down in the river with their friends every afternoon from late May until September."_

_"This is a picture of the girls two years ago, at Beth's fifth grade graduation picnic. Beth was diagnosed just a few weeks later. We just barely got over the shock when Sara was tested for bone marrow compatibility and they told us that her tests were abnormal and she was sick, too."_

_Sam took the picture from Katherine's outstretched hand, leaning in against Martin for support. The girls in the picture smiled back up at them, long blonde hair framing their faces as they smiled and hugged each other. The picture Sara looked young, carefree and totally happy, so very different from the balding, thin girl with moonface who lay quietly on the hospital bed hooked up to IVs and monitors._

_"See?" Sara said, her voice soft and grainy. She coughed again and slowly sat up in bed, refusing her father's help as she insisted to do it herself. She nodded to Sam and continued, "I used to have pretty hair just like yours. Now I wear a wig when I go outside, but one day I'll wear my hair long again."_

_Sam smiled at the girl, taking the seat by her bedside. "I tell you what," she said, "You give me a call when you're ready, and we can go out and have makeovers and get our nails done. You know, girly stuff."_

_Sara smiled back. "Really?"_

_"My treat. You just work on getting better, and I'll work out the details. Deal?"_

_Sara placed her small hand in Sam's and they shook on it._

_"Deal."_

xx

Sam shook herself from the memory, wandering back downstairs and into the kitchen to get a drink. She poured herself a glass of water and started up another pot of coffee for Martin, Anna and Rick.

She sipped slowly, the cool liquid soothing her throat as she drank, and walked into the downstairs study where Martin was currently camped out with Anna and Rick. When she got back from her run they were busy picking apart a new piece of legislation on new energy alternatives, but now they seemed to have moved on to discussing the lunches, meetings and other appearances that were on his calendar for the upcoming week.

"... and your flight to Chicago doesn't leave until 6:00 on Thursday evening, so that should leave you enough time to have a late lunch with the president of EcoSafe Alliance, who has been calling nonstop since the article on Wyland came out. His name is..." Anna paused for a second, scanning her schedule book until she came across the name she was looking for, "Gabe LaVigne and you should be able to..."

Anna was interrupted by her cell phone that began to shrill on the desk beside her. "Hello?" she answered. She frowned and bit her lower lip, listening intently for a few seconds and then dropped the phone back down on the desk. "Turn on the TV to channel 14," she insisted.

Rick, who was closest to the remote control, quickly did as she said. In the commotion, Martin turned around and caught Sam's eye from where she stood at the door, but they both turned around the second they heard the sound of the television. The picture came into focus and they all watched intently as the CNN Breaking News ticker rolled across the bottom of the screen: SENATOR MCCLOUD TENDERS HIS RESIGNATION. PRESS CONFERENCE SCHEDULED FOR 8:00 PM. FOUR TERM MINNESOTA SENATOR RESIGNS OVER BACKLASH FROM WYLAND INDUSTRIES SCANDAL.

CNN showed footage of McCloud walking down the Senate steps, surrounded by advisors and secret service, and flocked by reporters eager to grab the insider's quote, while the voice over commentary discussed the fallout of 'Wylandgate'. The screen cut to profile pictures of the nine prominent politicians who had been linked to Wyland up to this point, all the while praising New York's Senator Fitzgerald for having the courage to help pull the plug on Wyland's operation even if it meant calling out members of his own party as well.

Martin simply shrugged, reaching out for the TV remote and hitting the mute button.

Sam caught his eye and grinned slyly. "Damn, you are good."

He laughed.

"You just noticed?"

xxxxx


	62. Chapter 61

xxxxx

_**chapter sixty-one**_

xxxxx

_send a wish upon a star_  
_do the work and you'll go far_  
_send a wish upon a star_  
_make a map and there you are_  
-Sia, "Lullaby"

xx

_February 13, 2004_  
_Chicago_  
_1:30 am_

Martin awoke suddenly and shot up in bed, rubbing his eyes and scanning the darkened room. Moonlight crept in through slits in the blinds, but he could not see anything that would have awoken him so suddenly. Beside him, Sam shifted and rolled over onto her side before settling back down against the pillow, still sound asleep. He smiled to himself; Sam could sleep through almost anything.

Deciding that he might as well get up and make sure that everyone else was okay, he threw the duvet back and slipped quietly out of bed, not wanting to wake Sam. Padding out of one of the two guest rooms at Scott and Rebecca's, he made his way down the hallway. He and Sam were heading to Kenosha over the weekend for her mother's wedding, and on the way they stopped in Chicago to celebrate Rebecca's birthday with his parents, who were also in town spending some time with their newest grandchildren.

He decided that he was hungry and padded softly down the stairs to raid the fridge for dinner leftovers. He was surprised however to find the light on in the kitchen and his father sitting at the counter holding Alex and sipping a glass of water while he read the paper.

"Dad?" Martin asked, his original intent entirely forgotten as he sat down in the stool next to his father.

Victor folded the newspaper and set it down on the marble countertop. "Martin. I was up and wandering when I heard Alex start to cry; I think I got to him before either Scott or Rebecca woke up."

"You did." Martin nodded and looked over at Alex, whose eyes followed the ceiling fan, entranced. Martin motioned towards his nephew and commented, "He's quiet now."

"You used to be just like this, you know." Victor closed his eyes momentarily, pensive, before he added, "You could sit and watch the fan going for hours and hours. I used to walk with you in the middle of the night so that your mom could get some sleep, and I would walk in circles in the sunroom with the fan on until you would fall back asleep."

Martin remained silent, sensing that his father still had more to add. There was a pregnant pause before Victor changed the subject entirely.

"Have things settled back down at work?" he asked finally.

Martin inhaled sharply, not sure he wanted to cross this road with his father at almost 2:00 in the morning. Wringing his hands together under the counter top, he replied, "Things are going to be a mess for awhile, from what I can tell. The extent to which Wyland had his hands in Washington remains to be fully uncovered. I'm sure you know the FBI's involvement in all this better than I do though, and I think that's all going to happen before we hold our closed hearings." He ran one hand over his face with a heavy sigh. "Unless another even bigger scandal breaks, it's going to be a good couple of months before this is all over."

Victor took a long sip from his glass of water and, placing the glass back down on the counter with a clink, said, "I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time about it when the story broke. I would just hate to see you ruin your career over pissing someone like Hugo Wyland off, but I guess I should have given you a little more credit, you knew exactly what you were doing."

This was the problem with his father sometimes. Victor played too much by the rules even when the rules didn't make sense, because it was the only way he knew to be 'successful' -- never mind that this was Martin's career and he was an adult fully capable of making his own informed decisions.

Martin sighed and crossed his arms, leaning forward against the countertop. It felt cool against his bare forearms, and goosebumps began to form. "It wouldn't have mattered if my career were 'ruined' by this; it was still the right thing to do. I have an entire staff for input too, you know."

"It should work to your advantage anyway. The DSCC has come out in full support of you."

"I know." Martin replied curtly.

Victor seemed to sense that Martin did not want to continue on this line of conversation, and instead changed the subject. "It was nice that you and Sam were able to get away for the weekend. I know Rebecca appreciated seeing you both tonight."

"We wouldn't have missed it. It's an easy stop on the way to Kenosha, anyway."

Victor furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought. "That's right. You mentioned that her mother is getting married this weekend, didn't you?"

"On Saturday," Martin nodded in reply.

"Valentine's Day," Victor commented off-handedly. "That's nice."

"Betsy - Sam's mother - she hates the cliché, but it was the best weekend to have it because of President's Day. Sam's sister Lindsey is a college English professor, and Charles' son Trent is a grad student in physics, so it was the easiest weekend for both of them to make the trip."

Victor nodded. "Tell me more about Samantha's family."

Martin shrugged, bracing himself. He hated doubting his father's intentions, but his father rarely ever showed interest in his girlfriends if not to disapprove. In spite of the fact that both of his parents seemed to genuinely like Sam, experience taught him to be wary.

"There's not much to tell; there's just Sam, her sister Lindsey and her mother Betsy. I've only met Betsy once and that was just briefly."

Victor paused for a beat, looking down to Alex in his arms, and said, "So this is a big weekend for you?"

"I guess you could say that," Martin shrugged casually. The thought honestly had not occurred to him before. After all, Sam knew most of his family very well, wasn't it only logical that he would spend time with hers?

With a reflective smile, Victor said, "Of course it is. I remember the first time I met your mother's parents: I was a wreck. I was still a rookie agent, so they already didn't like me very much because your mother had recently broken off her engagement to her college sweetheart to date me. Now Edward was a medical student and her parents had loved him and loved the idea of him becoming their son in law, so you can imagine all the negative things they thought about me, still fresh out of the Academy and working entry level as a rookie in Violent Crimes. We went out to this upscale restaurant in Manhattan. It was her parents favorite restaurant, and I was so beside myself with nerves that I forgot that I am deathly allergic to walnuts. So naturally, when they brought out a basket of her father's favorite banana nut bread I had to try some. It was less than five minutes before I turned bright red and my throat started closing up, so instead of having a nice dinner, we spent the rest of the night in the emergency room."

Martin laughed in spite of himself, looking up to meet his father's eyes. It was hard to imagine that at one point, his hard, stern, dignified father had been so incredibly nervous from wanting to impress his new girlfriend's parents. His parents rarely ever talked about the time when they were dating, so Martin did not even know that his mother had previously been engaged. He filed that information away to ask her at another time, but in the meantime, he appreciated what he had just learned about his father.

"I never knew any of that," he said quietly, biting his bottom lip pensively as he took it all in.

"Really?" Victor furrowed his brow. "Your mother never told you that story? I would have thought she just saved it for a time when I wasn't around. It's not exactly an evening of my life that I enjoy reliving frequently."

Shaking his head slowly, Martin replied, "No, I've definitely never heard any of that before."

Victor curled his lips up in a soft smile, putting his free hand on Martin's shoulder as he said, "Then I guess we're going to need to change that."

Martin nodded, covering his mouth with his hands to stifle a yawn. He rose from the bar stool, stretching his arms as he replied, "I'd like that, but we'll have to save that for another night. Sam and I have a long day tomorrow. In the interim, I have no nut allergies so I think I should be safe."

"Fair enough," Victor laughed. "Goodnight, son."

Martin stopped at the door, resting his arm against the doorjamb. "Goodnight, Dad."

He turned around and padded softly back up the stairs and through the hallway until he reached the guest room where he and Sam were staying. He turned the knob slowly and tried to carefully crack the door open to avoid waking her, but the second the door shut behind him, he saw her move.

Sam was lying on her side, facing the door, and she propped herself up on one elbow so that her head was raised up slightly. Her long blonde hair was mussed from sleep as it fell haphazardly on her shoulders, try as she might to tuck it back behind her ears.

"Where were you?" She asked, her eyes wearily half-open and her voice thick and heavy from sleep. She motioned to the empty bed beside her and said, "I woke up and the bed was cold."

Martin pulled back the sheets and slipped underneath. He rolled over onto his side so that he was facing her and linked his hand with hers, squeezing it affectionately. "Is that the only thing I'm good for?" he asked teasingly.

Sam rolled her eyes and grinned slyly. "That, and using up all my frequent flyer miles. Before I met you they were just collecting dust in my account." They both laughed, and Sam leaned back, lying flat against her pillow. "You okay though? You don't usually get up in the middle of the night like this."

He ran a finger along the side of her rib cage, smiling to himself as he felt her shiver involuntarily. "I'm good. I woke up when I heard something from down the hall, and I went to investigate. I found my dad downstairs with Alex, and we talked for a little while."

Sam frowned, reaching out with her hand to grasp his upper arm. "And that was good?"

"It was good," he nodded in reply. "He told me some things that I never knew before."

"Mmmm," Sam sighed, her eyes drooping as she made no attempt to stifle a yawn. She looked for a second like she might be about to say something else, but within seconds, she had rolled back onto her side and leaned into him. Her breathing evened out, slow and deep, and he smiled to himself because she had clearly fallen back asleep.

He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead as he settled back down against his own pillow when he heard her murmur through her own subconscious, "Night, love you."

He ran his finger slowly against the soft skin of her face. "Goodnight, Sam," he whispered. "I love you, too."

xxxxx


	63. Chapter 62

xxxxx

_**chapter sixty-two**_

xxxxx

_well we all write our own ending_s  
_and we all have our own scars_  
_but tonight i think i see what it's all about_

_because i've come home_  
_i've come home_  
-Vienna Teng, "Homecoming (Walter's Song)"

xx

_February 14, 2004_  
_Kenosha_  
_11:00 am_

"Anyone want some toast?" Lindsey asked, popping her head in the bedroom where Sam was helping her mother put the finishing touches on her hair and makeup. "I'm kind of hungry, so I was going to throw together some breakfast."

Betsy shook her head and Sam answered for both of them. "No thanks, Linds. We're both fine."

Lindsey opened the door all the way and stepped inside. She shut the door behind her and leaned back against the doorframe. "Are you nervous, Mom?" she asked.

Betsy smiled and Sam watched her reflection in the mirror. Betsy turned around to face both of her daughters, her voice even and calm as she said, "Not at all. When I married your father, I spent the entire morning in the bathroom throwing up, but that was more a factor of the fact that I was pregnant with you Lindsey, and not because I was getting married. I might not be getting married at all now if not for the fact that I want to get it right this time around. I'm practically an old hag now."

Sam knew that her mother's self-deprecation was only in jest, but it was certainly far from the truth. She was just glad that her mother was getting a chance to be happy after so many years of making sacrifices just to get by. Betsy opted not to wear white, and instead was wearing blue -- "for the rhyme" she had insisted -- but she truly looked stunning. Lindsey left the room to go off in search of something for breakfast, and Sam and her mother were left alone.

"You look beautiful, Mom," Sam commented.

Betsy stood up from the vanity mirror and hugged her daughter. "I'm just happy I have my whole family together again," she said. "And I'm glad that you brought Martin along. I originally got the feeling that you weren't big on him coming."

Sam shrugged her shoulders sheepishly, unable to deny the truth in her mother's statement. Betsy and Charles had set their wedding date while she was spending the Christmas holiday in Washington DC with Martin, and initially she had not been receptive of the idea of him coming along with her.

xx

_Sam sighed long and hard as she hit 'end' and closed her cell phone._

"_Are you okay?" she heard Martin call out from somewhere behind her. She craned her neck from where she sat on the sofa and saw him leaning back against the doorjamb. He was wiping his hands against a dishtowel. Her mother had called right as they finished eating lunch, and Martin had obviously started working on the dishes while she talked with her mother. He turned around to drop the dishtowel on the kitchen counter and joined her on the sofa. He rubbed her thigh soothingly with one hand as he sat beside her; sometimes his impeccable sense of timing and his sixth sense were unnerving._

"_Yeah, I'm fine," she answered back._

_He raised an eyebrow, looking at her skeptically. Ignoring her 'I'm fine', he probed further, "What did your mother have to say? Is everything okay at home."_

"_Everything is fine," she nodded. He was not going to let her off easy; she was going to have to tell him. "Mom and Charles finally set a date for their wedding." She met his eyes and he silently urged her to continue. "They want to get married sooner rather than later, and with Lindsey and Trey's school schedules, they think that Presidents Day weekend is probably going to be the best time for everyone."_

_Martin gave a slow, contemplative nod. "Presidents Day weekend. Federal holiday, so that should be a good weekend for me too." He frowned, appearing crestfallen, as he saw the obvious uncertainty written all over her face. His voice a mix of frustration and disappointment, he said, "That is, unless you don't want me to go."_

"_Martin," she protested, getting herself revved up for an argument. "Look, it's not that, it's just..."_

"_It's just what?" he interrupted, throwing his hands up in frustration. He paused, taking a long, deep breath and shutting his eyes. When he opened them again, he gave her a deep, penetrating stare with sad blue eyes and she wished he would go back to being angry. It was a lot easier to deal with making him mad than with disappointing him, and it was obvious that his initial irritation was giving way to just that._

_They both remained totally silent for a few intense moments before Martin spoke softly. "Look, Sam, I don't even know what to say. You tell me that you love me and that you want this to work, but then you send me these negative signals like you want to keep me away. You need to decide what you want Sam, because I do love you and I can't do this halfway."_

xx

Sam shook herself from the memory, regretting that she had still been so insecure about bringing Martin to Kenosha. "It worked out in the end," she said finally.

"It did," Betsy nodded, giving Sam a knowing look. She rubbed Sam's forearm reassuringly and said, "What do you say, Samantha? Am I ready?"

Sam pursed her lips together and gave her mother a once-over, then smiled. "Very ready," she nodded assuredly.

"Good," Betsy answered. "Then let's go get married."

xx

_5:40 pm_

Sam took a sip from her glass of wine and slowly scanned the room. The wedding had been an extremely small one, just immediately family and a few close friends from work, and afterwards they had all returned to Charles and Betsy's home for a low-key celebration that had been entirely catered by two of Betsy's coworkers. Betsy sat at one table with a few of her coworkers, Lindsey and Trent were comparing notes on their respective semesters as they ate dinner, and she continued to scan the room until her eyes fell on Martin and Charles standing by themselves, deep in conversation. She met Martin's eyes as he gave her a small wave and motioned for her to come join them.

She walked slowly over in their direction, smiling as she caught up with them. "You two look like you're standing over here plotting something," she teased as Martin wrapped his arm around her waist. "Are you looking for another wingman?"

Charles laughed. "I think we've got it covered, but we'll keep you in mind just in case."

"Congratulations," she commented, taking another sip from her wine glass. "This was the perfect day."

In spite of the biting Wisconsin cold outside, the day had been sunny and the snow that lined the ground had been fresh and white. And by having just a small crowd for a low-key reception at home, it felt cozy and intimate, casual but still celebratory.

"Thanks, Samantha," Charles replied. "I told your mother we could do whatever she wanted, but I think this was best for all of us. She really only had one request, and that was for us to get married in a church."

Sam nodded understandingly as she glanced around the room to where the minister sat talking with a few of Charles' friends. She remembered her mother mentioning at one point that she wanted to get married in a church this time because her first wedding was nothing more than two witnesses and the justice of the peace. Not that it mattered in the long run, but Betsy wanted this to be different from the shotgun wedding she'd thrown together the first time around. Sam didn't blame her in the least, and this had been perfect.

While her thoughts had been otherwise distracted, Martin went on to ask Charles more about his work for the drug company. He looked down at her and smiled as Charles talked about new research developments and promotion and Martin's grip around her tightened, hugging her closer to him. Her thoughts wandered again to their arguments the day her mother invited them to the wedding, and how glad she was that she decided to change her mind and invite him.

xx

_Sam returned from her run, panting heavily as she turned into Martin's driveway and hit the keypad to let herself back in through the garage. She punched the keys a little harder than necessary, excess stress still pent up inside her as she reconsidered their argument from earlier that afternoon._

_She could barely even call it an argument; Martin left her alone almost immediately after he said his piece, claiming he needed some time to himself. It was now five hours later, and to her knowledge, he spent the entire time locked up in his study. She went stir crazy after making it through the front page section of the Post and attempting the crossword puzzle, and decided to go out for a run to get some of her stress energy out._

_Truth be told, she didn't feel any better because no matter what, she couldn't get Martin's look of total disappointment out of her mind._

_Why was it again that she didn't jump at the idea of bringing Martin with her to her mother's wedding? Martin and her mother already met, already liked each other. What was there to be afraid of?_

_Everything, she sighed to herself._

_Of Martin bringing the media along with him, of how they would paint her. She didn't like to admit it to herself, but it did matter. She hated the idea of the media spinning their relationship in a negative light because of her, or of doing the same to his career._

_Of bringing Martin back to a place that held so many negative memories for her. There was no telling whom or what she might run into back in Kenosha, and while he always seemed to want to know more about her past, there wasn't a whole lot that she was interested in sharing. Not because she didn't want to share things with him, but because she didn't want to relive most of it herself._

_But most of all, she was concerned that the whole thing would end badly. This was entirely new territory for her in a relationship. In all of her experience, she never made it to the point in a relationship where meeting the family and inviting each other to family functions became an issue; she usually made sure things were over long before that point._

_She and Martin had been together for ten months now, and he consistently proved himself different from any other man she'd ever dated. He told her that he loved her, and she not only believed him but she told him how she felt as well._

_She drew in a few deep breaths, running her hand across her face. She needed to face her fears and talk to Martin, she just didn't know how._

_Glancing down at her watch, she noticed that it was starting to get late. In the ten minutes since she finished her run, the sun had already begun to disappear in the distance and the early winter evening was setting in. She set off for the kitchen and searched through the pantry for something she could throw together for dinner without expending tremendous amounts of energy and burning Martin's place down. Finally deciding that pasta would be her safest bet, she put the pot out on the stove and began to boil water._

_She brought the water to a boil and was stirring in the spaghetti when she sensed Martin watching her from the other room. She turned around and met his eyes. "Hi," she said meekly, uncertainty lacing her voice._

"_Hey Sam," he offered, his hands in his pockets as he inched closer. "You making dinner?"_

_She curled her lips up in a half-smile and ran one hand nervously through her hair, taking it down from its ponytail. "I was going to throw some garlic bread in the oven and then come see if you wanted to eat."_

_He looked as though he wanted to say something but instead decided against it. He took a seat at the kitchen table, giving the clock on the oven a long, hard stare before he finally spoke. "I heard you leave for your run." His voice was cool, calm, and disconcertingly emotionless. "I, uh, wasn't sure you would be coming back tonight."_

_She released a quick, pulsed breath and stirred the boiling water just a little bit faster. With one last definitive flick of her wrists, she set the spoon off to one side and walked over to join him at the table. She was still wearing a long-sleeved t shirt and her warm ups, and she rolled up the sleeves of her t shirt. It was almost a metaphorical gesture as well as a literal one, as her brown eyes met his deep blue ones. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the intensity of his gaze and, taking a deep breath, lowered her eyes and explained, "I've been thinking a lot about my mother's wedding, and I do want ... I want you to come with me. I can't lie and say that the whole thing doesn't make me nervous, but you're right, it's time for you to meet my family."_

"_Look, I may need a little more time to adjust and I may need some space, and I may even run sometimes..." she paused a beat for effect, raising her eyes to meet his gaze once again , "... but I don't ever want you to doubt that I love you and I will come back when I've worked through everything."_

_Martin smiled at her from across the table, reaching out to hold her hand. He rubbed smooth circles on the back of her palm with his thumb and replied, "I will always be here waiting, but I can be on your side too. You don't have to work this out on your own anymore, not if you don't want to."_

xxxxx


	64. Chapter 63

xxxxx

_**chapter sixty-three**_

xxxxx

_if it takes my whole life, i won't break i won't bend_  
_it'll all be worth it, worth it in the end_  
'_cause i can only tell you what i know_  
_that i need you in my life_  
_when the stars have all gone out_  
_you'll still be burning so bright_  
-Sarah McLachlan, "Answer"

xx

_April 9, 2004_  
_New York City_  
_7:30 pm_

Sam gave her report a final once-over before hitting print and going over to the printer to retrieve it. She sighed as she fingered each page of her case report; she was not supposed to be working tonight. But before she could lament any further on her misfortune, she heard Jack call out from his office.

"You still here?" he asked, striding purposefully across the bullpen.

She smiled and shrugged, trying to play it off. "Just try to keep me away," she joked. She leaned forward and signed her name to the bottom of her case report, clipping it together and handing it to Jack. "Here's my report on the Mark Wilson case; I wanted to finish a few things off before I head home."

Jack took the report from her, his eyes scanning the first page quickly before nodding and dropping his hand to his side. It had been a bad week for the whole team, the previous week ended chasing down leads to find Mark Wilson, and in the process, their faith in the legal system had been severely shaken as they just barely saved Mark's son from being executed for a crime he did not commit. This week started on another inauspicious note as they hunted down a college football coach who suffered his first losing season because he was trying to clean up the athletic program, only to find him dead. Jack had been unusually distracted, and his ex-wife Maria had been in and out of the office several times. Although she had not noticed, Sam suspected that Jack had been in his office brooding for the better portion of the evening.

"You done for the night?" he asked.

She shook her head, unable to read the expression on his face. "No, I want to finish up a few more things here before I head out. Are you on your way out?"

He squared his shoulders back, as if to brace himself. "Yeah, I have to head uptown to Maria's new place to pick up the girls and talk some things over."

She took a few steps back over to her desk and glanced up at the picture frames that now lined the top of her desk. Frames that, one year ago, she would never have considered putting out on display. She turned her body back to face him, leaning back against the side of her desk, and commented, "You get the girls for the weekend? That will be nice."

He nodded, giving her a half-smile. "It should be. Kate has her first softball game, and she's volunteered me to be team dad. I'm in charge of making sure everyone has a juice box and a granola bar after the game."

Sam laughed at this, but before she could answer, her cell phone shrilled in her pocket and she flipped it open to answer it. "Hey," she tucked a loose hair behind her ear as she answered, not needing to ask who it was. "Did you manage to break free?"

On the other end of the line, she heard Martin let out a long, deep sigh. "Just for a few minutes. I left in the middle of a dramatic reading of Shakespeare's Sonnets; I just wanted to give you a call and see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," she said, sitting down in her desk chair as she massaged the back of her neck with her free hand. Her muscles were taught and tense after several long weeks, and she was disappointed that Martin was still stuck in Washington. "I decided to just stay at the office and finish off some of my paperwork. How is everything going?"

Martin was supposed to fly in this afternoon because their anniversary had been two days prior. He had 'big plans' for the evening, although he refused to divulge just what those plans were. Instead, he got holed up in the Senate when Garrett McDowell started a filibuster to delay the vote on a piece of legislation that Martin had introduced nicknamed the Ashton Bill, which would institute a series of new environmental policies to further prevent water pollution. The bill was going to go through with a wide majority, but McDowell started the filibuster in a last-ditch effort to prevent the inevitable. And Martin was stuck in DC until it was all over and done with, which was how Sam found herself working a late night at the office when she should have been out celebrating.

The other end of the phone was quiet for a long, charged moment, and she could see Martin running his hands over his face out of frustration. "I'm tired and I'm hungry and I would rather be in New York with you," he answered finally. "I'm disappointed that tonight got ruined; I've been looking forward to having some time alone with you for weeks."

"Me too," she answered, closing her eyes and leaning back against her desk chair. She made it down to Washington for a long weekend once, but other than that, they hadn't actually seen each other since her mother's wedding. "There will be other weekends though."

"Yeah. It's just ... I miss you, Sam."

"I miss you too," she said, "But you should probably get back. You wouldn't want to miss anything..."

He chuckled. "Yeah, if I'm not careful they'll be reading the rules of bridge when I get back." With one final sigh, he continued, "I love you Sam, I'll call you tomorrow."

"Love you, too," she answered back, hitting 'end' before flipping her phone shut and setting it back in her pocket. She turned around to apologize to Jack for the interruption, but a quick look around revealed a completely empty bullpen. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small notecard on the far recesses of her desk. She picked up the card and read the note that Jack left behind:

_Had to go to Maria and the girls. Goodnight._

_Jack_

She crumpled the note into a ball and unceremoniously tossed it into the trash can underneath her desk. There was a time in her life where she received these notes on numerous occasions, where she would look forward to these notes even as he would go back to his wife and daughters after sharing her bed. Those notes were her lifeline; this one meant nothing.

She wandered into the break room, done with her paperwork but not wanting to go home alone just yet either. She flipped on the TV and switched the channel to C-SPAN2, where Garrett McDowell had jumped a few hundred years and was reading aloud from _Harry Potter_ instead of Shakespeare; the filibuster was still going in full force.

Sam was immensely disappointed that he was stuck in Washington indefinitely on the night they were supposed to be out celebrating their anniversary. She never made it to six months with any other man, so the one year mark with Martin felt like something worth celebrating. More and more often however, she was beginning to wonder how much longer they were going to be able to be long distance.

She was shaken from her musings when the break room door swung open and Danny walked in.

"Why are you still here?" he raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Isn't Martin supposed to be in town this weekend?"

She nodded, rolling her eyes and motioning towards the television. "His plane was supposed to land almost three hours ago. Instead, I'm staying late to finish up paperwork because my boyfriend is trapped in the US Senate while a member of _his own party_ reads from _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ to delay the vote that was supposed to go down at 11:00 this morning."

"Yikes, I'm sorry Sam." Danny shrugged his shoulders, a guilty, sympathetic look on his face.

Sam let out a long sigh and rolled her head back, rotating her neck several times. She asked, "What are you doing back here? Didn't you leave almost two hours ago?"

Danny cocked his eyebrows suggestively. "I'm meeting someone downtown tonight, and I left my cell phone at my desk. I heard the TV on in here, so I figured I would come investigate."

"Here I am," she replied. "Everyone else is long gone for the weekend."

He gave her a commiserating smile. "You know, at first I really didn't think I was going to like the Senator," he met her eyes, shrugging sheepishly. "I didn't really interact with him last year when his nieces went missing, and when I first found out you two were seeing each other, I thought he was going to be a pompous, self-righteous jackass, just another guy who wasn't good enough for you."

This did not come as a surprise to Sam; everyone had to prove themselves to Danny before he could give them his seal of approval. "What changed your mind?" she asked finally.

Danny gave her one of his patented self-satisfied smirks and explained, "Well, when he was helping us work the Wyland case a couple of months ago, the two of us had a little chat right here in the break room..."

xx

_Danny's stomach rumbled loudly as he made his way toward the break room. They'd been working overtime trying to catch a break in the Hugo Wyland case, all while trying to keep up with their normal case load, and he had missed dinner. He hoped there were some Snyder's pretzels left in the vending machine._

_As he neared the break room door, he heard loud noises coming from inside. He stalled outside the door, not sure if he should go in or if he should wait for a few minutes. That's when he heard the Senator's voice echoing back loudly. This conversation seemed to be one sided, so Danny assumed that he must be on the phone with someone and obviously upset._

"_... and I'm telling you that you need to calm down and give me a little space. I'm in New York now and I'm not sure I'm going to be back until the vote next Monday."_

_Danny frowned. If the Senator was seeing someone behind Sam's back, he would have Fitzgerald's head on a plate. He wouldn't be the only one, either, he thought as he glanced back to the bullpen where Naomi and Viv were both crouched over, studying something on Naomi's computer screen. His interest irrevocably piqued, he listened harder trying to get a better idea of to whom the Senator was talking._

"_Look, Dad," Fitzgerald barked, "I don't care if I lose ten thousand dollars towards my re-election campaign if I can't even do the job I was elected to do in the first place. I __**asked**__ Sam if I could help, and I intend to see this through because it's the right thing to do." He paused for a beat, apparently listening to the Deputy Director speak on the other end of the line. Danny felt a sense of relief that he hadn't accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation that had the potential to break Sam's heart. After just a few seconds, however, Fitzgerald raised his voice again. "Then why don't you call me back when you think I'm feeling a little more 'reasonable'."_

_The conversation stopped short, and Danny assumed that Fitzgerald must have hung up the phone. Danny's stomach growled loudly at him, and he braced himself before pushing the door open and entering the break room. The door swung back and forth as it shut behind him, and he greeted the Senator formally as he headed directly for the vending machine._

"_You can call me 'Martin' you know," Fitzgerald said. "How much of my phone call did you overhear?"_

_Danny shrugged, his back still turned as he dropped three quarters into the slots and pressed the corresponding buttons for his pretzels. The machine beeped and dropped his pretzels to the bottom._

"_It's okay, you certainly wouldn't be the first person to overhear me in a 'fundamental disagreement' with my father. He makes it a habit to second guess everything I do." Fitzgerald set his shoulders back and shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "But I'm sure Sam has told you that before."_

_Danny shrugged, opening his bag of pretzels and snagging a handful. He bit into them with a loud crunch, chewing and swallowing before he replied. "To be honest, Sam doesn't really talk much about you two while we're at work. She tries as much as she can to keep it separate from the office." Martin nodded quietly, and Danny took the opportunity to continue. "I have to say, I'm glad to see you here helping out with the case. Sam really took this whole thing to heart, and I'm glad you're helping her do something about it." He crooked his head and met Martin's eyes to make sure he was listening. With a deep breath, Danny puffed his chest out a little and adopted his best macho special agent voice, and he warned, "I hope you realize that Sam is practically my family, more than my own brother, and no one will be happier than I am to see you together as long as you treat her well. But if you break her heart, the entire Missing Persons team will be on you faster than your secret service can handle. Capisce?"_

_Martin smiled. "I have no doubt that you and Naomi and Vivian could take out the best of my secret service, but I assure you that it will not be necessary. Sam can be the most frustrating woman I've ever met, but that makes her all the more worth it."_

"_Excellent, mi amigo," Danny proclaimed as he held out his hand to shake. Martin took the proffered hand and, as they shook, Danny said with certainty, "Then we should get along just fine."_

xx

"Danny, you didn't!" Sam exclaimed, half amused and half horrified; Martin had never so much as mentioned it to her.

Danny smiled smugly, obviously very pleased with himself. "I did. Samantha, you are like a sister to me and I will always have your back, whether you like it or not." He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her in a friendly hug. "Now, you should stop wallowing at work and get out of here. It's Friday and the night is young, enjoy yourself. I must be getting on my way..." he paused for dramatic effect, waggling his eyebrows, "I have a date."

xxxxx


	65. Chapter 64

xxxxx

_**chapter sixty-four**_

xxxxx

_my heart breaks in a heart beat_  
_and you storm me as you come and go_  
_the taste of something so sweet_  
_should have warned me 'bout the undertow_  
_oh, i couldn't find a better man to let me go_  
-Sara Bareilles, "Undertow"

xx

_April 10, 2004_  
_11:00 am_

_The sand was cool between her toes as she padded barefoot out to the beach, and the gentle breeze blew her long blonde hair around her face. She shook her head and tucked the offending locks of hair back behind her ears, walking quickly toward her destination._

_Up ahead, she could hear voices laughing and talking together. It was Martin's family, gathering together at Victor and Lydia's vacation home on Martha's Vineyard for the Labor Day weekend, as was their tradition. The first person she recognized was Caroline, who looked just slightly older and more distinguished with her hair cut short with highlights. Rebecca stood behind a tripod, adjusting buttons and lenses on one of her many cameras. Behind her stood Scott, holding up another lens as she switched them out. Tim and Victor stood together off to one side, deep in conversation and obviously trying to avoid the commotion coming from where all the kids stood._

_Lydia, however, was right in the thick of it - standing in front of her grandchildren as she helped 'arrange' them properly. All four of them were wearing khaki shorts and white polo shirts, although Alex and Natalie's outfits were far less crisp and pristine as Kelsey and Bridget's - the consequence of trying to get the four and a half year old twins to sit still for more than two minutes._

_But there was someone missing..._

"_Hey," Martin called out, coming up behind her. "Did you sleep okay?"_

"_Yeah, thanks for taking him so that I could get a nap in."_

"_It was no problem" Martin smiled. Sam turned around, and Martin was walking towards her with a dark haired, blue eyed toddler in his arms. "We took a walk and got to watch the seagulls because someone didn't want to take a nap..."_

_Sam shook her head, laughing. "He got that from you. If I hadn't spent 18 hours in labor, I might not believe he was my child. Right buddy?" she smiled, making a face at the boy before taking him from Martin. His small arms went immediately around her neck._

"_Okay!" Lydia announced diplomatically. "Now that we're all here and awake, I think it's time."_

_Sam walked over to where Kelsey and Bridget were waiting before setting her son down beside his older cousins. Kelsey took his hand and stood him directly in front of her, and Sam backed out of the picture, going back to stand beside Martin._

"_We're going to do this nice and easy," Rebecca explained, snapping shots quickly as she talked. "On the count of three, everybody say 'cheese' alright? Ready? One... two... three..." Rebecca moved around, getting more candid shots as everyone adjusted their position. Scott stood behind the tripod, taking the formal shots._

_Looking on as Rebecca and Scott photographed the family, Sam felt Martin reach down to take her hand in his. She felt the cool metal of his wedding band against her palm as he smiled down at her..._

xx

Sam yawned and rubbed her eyes. There was no sand, no wind, no waves, and no beach. She was at Martin's place in New York, and he was stuck in D.C. indefinitely. She rolled over, hugging the duvet against her as she desperately clung to the last vestiges of sleep.

She felt warm and comfortable and inexplicably calm even as she ran through the details of the dream in her mind. She realized that it had been a long time since the idea of being with Martin scared her; the previous night had proved as much. It had been months since she had spent a Friday night sulking in the office with nothing else better to do. If Martin was not in town, she was spending more time with Danny and Naomi, with Caroline, Tim and his nieces or even with his Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Roger; she found herself a welcome addition to any and all of his extended family.

She rolled over once more, but this time instead of mattress, her hand hit against something a little more solid. Startled, she opened her eyes and saw Martin's blue ones staring back at her.

"Good morning," he greeted her, all dimples and apparently very pleased with himself. "I was wondering when you might be waking up."

Still sleepily rubbing her eyes, Sam yawned. "When did you get here?" she asked.

Martin chuckled softly, running a hand along his hairline. "Filibuster finally broke up at about 11:00 last night -- fittingly, I might add, after a dramatic reading from _Waiting for Godot_. It got ugly there for a few minutes, I'd be surprised if parts of it weren't mentioned on _SportsCenter's_ Top Plays." He raised an eyebrow, laughing it off. "The vote went down about half an hour later; it passed: 71-29. I took the red eye in this morning, and I've been waiting for you to wake up ever since."

Sam groaned, hitting her pillow once before plopping back down. "Your unique ability to function without sleep worries me sometimes."

He smiled, but it was transient as his mood grew suddenly somber and reflective. "I'm sorry I got stuck in DC last night; I really wanted to make this weekend special."

She smiled reassuringly back at him; he could be so endearingly unsure and overly self-deprecating at times. She rubbed indistinct patterns along his arm and answered back, teasingly, "You didn't ruin anything. I've never made it to six months with anyone else, so I have absolutely nothing to compare it to."

"Great," he said, exhaling and giving a small laugh. "I win by default."

"Last night you won with an overwhelming majority," she countered. "I'm proud of you. There will be other weekends for us to celebrate, and you're here now, which is what counts."

"I rescheduled my original plans, but I hope you didn't go off and make new plans for tonight." He gave a grandiose wave of his hand, rolling over onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. "I'm pretty sure I could get a last minute reservation somewhere..."

She whacked his chest and mocked playfully, "Oh, it must be nice to have _your_ connections."

Martin rolled his eyes and she opened her mouth to protest, but she was promptly interrupted as he leaned in and kissed her. At first it was soft and gentle, a kiss of familiarity and comfort, but it quickly progressed into something more. His lips were hard on hers, his tongue probing at her mouth demanding entrance. She wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him in closer while he ran his hands along the sides of her rib cage, brushing against her breasts through the thin material of her tank top. She moved her own hands to rake across his back and down to his ass, eliciting a deep, throaty moan from him that reverberated through her, sending a pleasurable tingling sensation to her most sensitive nerve endings.

They were a tangle of arms and legs and sheets as they kissed until they were entirely out of breath. Reluctantly pulling apart for a moment, they lay together panting heavily almost in unison. Their bodies still flush, she could feel evidence of his obvious desire pressing against her abdomen but despite his discomfort, he slowed his breathing and said, "I've been waiting far too long to do that."

She looked into his eyes, his pupils dilated and his clear blue irises dark with desire, and licked her lips suggestively. Unceremoniously shoving him flat on his back she threw one leg over to straddle him, and leaned down, letting her long hair fall all around his face as she whispered in his ear, "Well then, what are you waiting for..."

xx

_7:40 pm_

Martin chewed his pork tenderloin slowly as they ate in comfortable silence. After spending the remainder of the morning in bed together, they decided that they both would prefer to stay in for the weekend away from prying eyes and second glances. That had been his initial intention when he planned to take her to Roger and Bonnie's cabin in the Catskills, just get away for the weekend and not have to worry about anything or anyone else. When he got stuck in Washington the night before, he decided to put those plans on hold for a time when they would have more than 36 hours together.

Across the table Sam looked up at him and smiled. She was different than the last time she visited; she was peaceful and calm in a very un-Sam-like fashion. Her brown eyes sparkled as she sipped Dom Pérignon from her champagne flute.

He began to relay stories of the previous night and how the filibuster finally broke up when his colleague, Nathan Creager (R, Virginia) passed out from a combination of dehydration and low blood sugar from not eating for twelve hours, and the mess that ensued and caused McDowell to finally give up the floor. She laughed at first, then grew quiet and pensive as though there was something on her mind.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips his throat suddenly went dry, and his heart began to pound rapidly in his chest. It thundered so loudly that he was sure she must be able to hear it. He opened his mouth to ask her what was on her mind, when she interrupted.

"Martin," she exhaled, so softly he wasn't sure she had even spoken at all. "I don't... I don't think this is working anymore."

His heart, which had been thundering so loudly in his chest, came to a sudden, abrupt halt.

Sam reached out across the table and placed her hand on top of his. "I'm sorry," she stuttered, suddenly appearing nervous herself. "I didn't mean for it to come out that way. Last night got me thinking... I don't want this to be it with us, flying back and forth and never spending more than two days together at a time."

He closed his eyes for a split second and breathed in softly, a sigh of relief, as his pulse rate slowed down again. He had been wondering how to broach the subject of the future with Sam for some time now, but could not decide on the best way to do so. In fact, his initial plans for the weekend included trying to divine her feelings on the matter. He squeezed her hand and let out a long breath and said, "I guess we need to have 'The Talk' then."

He looked up and Samantha was staring back at him, attentive and contemplative, but silent. He bit his lower lip and smiled back at her nervously. "Look Sam," he started, running his thumb against the back of her hand, "You know what I want. I know we don't talk about it, but it's no secret. I want a wife and kids and the white picket fence. Golden retriever too, although I might be willing to negotiate on breed..." He paused for a beat and exhaled. She brought it up, and he wanted to lay all his cards out on the table. "But the most important thing is that I want all that with you, so just say the words and I'll wait as long as you need."

There was an absolute silence that filled the room as he finished, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat.

Sam looked up and met his eyes, her gaze deep and penetrating. She exhaled softly and he held his breath.

"_Martin--"_ she began. When she spoke her voice was calm and composed and, at first, impossibly soft, but then she smiled and it was like coming home. "What if I don't want to wait anymore?"

xxxxx


	66. Chapter 65

xxxxx

_**chapter sixty-five**_

xxxxx

_taking one step back_  
_trying to pull yourself together_  
_no matter what you say nothing you do_  
_can hold back the forces on you forever_  
-Ivy, "Undertow"

xx

_April 12, 2004_  
_8:15 am_

Sam walked down to the cash register and paid for her drink. The cashier was a petite college-aged girl with bleach blonde hair and a name tag that read 'Amelia'. She chewed gum loudly as she deposited the money in the register, handing Sam the change as she said, "Have a nice day now."

Sam nodded and dropped the coins back in her wallet, moving off to the side as she waited for her drink. When the barista called out her order, she took the warm cup in her hand and made her way back to the corner of the shop, sliding into the chair next to where Naomi sat.

"Good morning," she greeted her friend. "Sorry I'm running a little late."

Naomi took a sip of what Sam could only assume was her usual Caramel Latte. Looking out over the top of her Starbucks cup, Naomi smiled and said, "It's no problem. Did Martin get off okay?"

Sam nodded, lifting her cup to her lips and inhaling the foamy hot liquid. She and Naomi tried to keep a regular coffee date, although they never seemed to connect at the same time every week; this week, they opted for Monday morning but she had been late because she waited with Martin until he was off to the airport. They usually frequented this Starbucks because of its location just a block away from the FBI building, which made it both convenient and comfortable. It was popular among their fellow agents, and she smiled and waved at Darren Reed from Major Thefts.

Looking back at Naomi she answered, "Yeah, he called me a little over twenty minutes ago just before the plane was due to take off."

Naomi smiled knowingly. "You must be sorry to see him go."

"I always am," Sam countered, tilting her head to one side. "But enough about me, how was your weekend?"

Naomi looked away for a split second and took another long drink from her cup. "It was fine. I went out on Friday night, but nothing else exciting unless you count laundry and finishing my taxes. I want to know more about your weekend; this was the big anniversary weekend, was it not?"

The thought briefly crossed her mind that Danny had been on his way to meet someone on Friday night and wondered if there were more to the story than met the eye. However Sam nodded and played it off, recognizing that her friend was being purposely dismissive. Sam rubbed her hands together cautiously and then tapped the table with her index finger. "Yeah, he apparently had something planned but we never made it that far," she said finally.

Naomi frowned. "You never made it that far?" she asked. "What happened?"

"It's not like that," she replied with a small laugh. "He got stuck in Washington on Friday night in a filibuster, and he didn't get in until Saturday morning. Whatever it was, Martin wanted to keep it a secret and reschedule for another weekend. He still wants to surprise me, so we just stayed at his place instead."

Naomi giggled. "Secret anniversary plans and spending the weekend at home alone together? You have found yourself a real romantic, Agent Spade."

She laughed, smiling back at her friend, "Oh Naomi, you have no idea."

Still laughing, Naomi looked down at her watch and said, "It's 8:30, should we start making our way over?"

Sam nodded and stood up. She pushed her chair back underneath the table and took ahold of her cup that was still relatively hot. She stopped at the counter to grab a to go lid while Naomi tossed her empty cup in the trash can, and the two women walked out into the cool early spring morning.

They reached the big glass doors leading into the New York field office and Sam held it open in front of Naomi. Walking over to the elevators, Naomi bent forward and punched the 'up' arrow with her index finger. The button did not light up, but it had been broken for weeks now and there was no indication that it was going to be fixed anytime soon. Naomi tilted her head and looked over in Sam's direction. "You look different Sam," she commented.

"Different?" Sam answered, biting her bottom lip to hold back a smile. She had thought long and hard about telling Naomi but decided to wait just a little while longer. "What do you mean 'different'?"

In front of them, the elevator doors dinged and slid open. Naomi looked over her shoulder as she stepped inside. "You've been happy for awhile now, but you're..." she furrowed her eyebrows for a moment, searching for the right word. "You seem peaceful."

"Peaceful, huh?"

Naomi held down the button for the 12th floor until it lit up and said, "I know. I sound crazy, right?"

The elevator car gave a small jolt and jerked upwards as it set itself in motion, and Sam leaned forward to depress the button labeled '10'. Naomi gave her an inquisitive look and she shrugged her shoulders and answered, "Tell everyone that I'll be right there, I just have something I need to take care of first."

The car came to an abrupt stop at the tenth floor, and the elevator doors creaked as they opened. Sam looked back over her shoulder as she started down the hallway towards her destination, just in time to see her friend staring back curiously, as the elevator doors slid shut.

xx

_9:15 am_

Sam tapped her foot as she waited for the elevator to arrive. Glancing up at the panel just above the elevator doors, she saw the button light up that the nearest car was on the 25th floor and, with that information, decided to just walk up the two flights to Missing Persons.

She swung the heavy door open and entered the dimly lit stairwell, the door slamming shut behind her with a loud thud. The click of her heels echoed loudly in the otherwise empty stairwell, and she had nearly reached the top when she felt her cell phone buzz in her pocket.

She removed it from her pocket and flipped it open, stopping at the top of her second flight of stairs. She hit 'answer' and said, "Hey, did you just get in?"

"Yeah, plane just landed ten minutes ago," Martin answered back. She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "I'm on my way to meet with John and Anna at the office before my lunch with Philip Hoyt. How is Naomi?"

"She's fine," Sam answered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and leaning back against the wall. "She said something about going out on Friday night, but she was being purposely evasive, so I'm not sure what to make of it."

He paused for a second on the other end of the line. "Do you think it was with Danny?"

She chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "The thought did cross my mind. I know Danny was on his way to meet someone on Friday, but it could just be coincidence. I'm just glad to see her going out again; she'll tell me when she's ready."

"Look at you being all wise," he teased. "When did that happen?"

"Probably when I started hanging around you," she countered, pausing dramatically before she added, "After all, you know what they say: keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

Martin laughed. "Okay, okay. You've made your point." He paused for a beat, "Hey, I've got Rick calling me, so I'll talk to you later tonight?"

"Yeah, give me a call whenever you're done," she paused for a beat, smiling to herself. They said their goodbyes and Sam hit the 'end' button before flipping her phone shut and slipping it back into her pocket. She pushed the heavy door open and entered the 12th floor hallway.

All around her agents were bustling about their days, rushing quickly around searching for suspects or victims or evidence. She smiled to herself as a sense of calm euphoria settled over her, and she picked up her steps. The entire team had began to assemble at the conference table, and she strode up to join them.

She pulled out a chair and sat down, getting suspicious and curious looks from both Vivian and Naomi. Danny, meanwhile, was otherwise oblivious as he looked beyond the table to where Jack was approaching from his office.

"Good morning," Viv said, hands gripping her coffee mug.

"Morning," came Jack's gruff reply. He took a seat at the head of the table, holding his coffee and the morning newspaper in his hands.

"Yankees got their asses kicked this weekend," Danny said with a cheerful, satisfied smirk.

"So I heard," Jack replied. He took a long sip of his coffee and glanced around the table at his team assembled before him. Sam felt his gaze linger on her and she looked up. Jack spun his coffee cup around until the black lettering that read FBI was facing out and said, "You're late Samantha. Are you alright?" He paused for a beat, getting her attention. "You look flushed."

Sam looked around the table at her surrogate family assembled before her: Danny, his face contorted and slightly confused; Naomi, looking on with encouragement; Vivian, calm but expectant; and Jack; his expression subtle and unreadable. Viv reached over and touched Sam's arm reassuringly, and Sam was certain that both she and Naomi knew what she was about to say.

Her gaze travelled around the table once more and she smiled. "I'm sorry I'm late," she said, slowly at first but picking up speed and confidence as she let her excitement sink in. "I just met with Van Doren, and I've asked to be transferred to DC as soon as something opens up." She paused, looking from Viv to Naomi to Danny and finally raising her eyes to look at Jack. She took one last deep breath and smiled. "Martin and I are getting married."

xxxxx

End _Undertow_. Epilogue to follow.


	67. Epilogue

xxxxx

_**epilogue**_

xxxxx

"_What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong? And there were signs along the way to pay attention to."_  
-Dana Scully, "The X-Files"

xx

_four and a half years later_  
_a tuesday in november_

Martin shoved his hands in his pockets as he paced back and forth down the darkened corridor. He stifled a yawn and walked over to the nearest bench where, part from exhaustion and part from nerves, he leaned over and sat down. He had no idea how long he sat there until a voice echoed from down the corridor.

"You look like you've had a long day." Martin looked up and saw his father-in-law standing next to him, grinning broadly and holding Sam's overnight bag. "Your mother and I went by the house to pack up a few things for Sam. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

Martin smiled, taking the bag from Charles and throwing it over his shoulder. "The nurse kicked me out. She and Betsy are helping Sam get cleaned up, and they're keeping Claire in the NICU overnight to make sure that she's okay." Charles looked panicked about as he himself had when the doctors first suggested it, and Martin was once again genuinely touched at the role Sam's stepfather played in her family. Charles was just as active and involved in Lindsey and Sam's lives as he was in his own son's. Inhaling deeply, Martin smiled at his father-in-law, "They keep assuring us that she's absolutely fine and it's just a precaution because she was only 33 weeks. That didn't stop Sam from being practically beside herself though. I'm right there with her; I'm just still trying to process it all."

Charles smiled back at him and gave him an encouraging thump on the back. "What time did you get up to get to the polls this morning?"

"This morning?" Martin shook his head and rubbed his hands together. "This morning seems like a lifetime ago."

In a way, that morning really had been a lifetime ago. It was election day and Martin and his entire staff had been up since well before dawn, with an entire days' worth of campaign events planned. It had been a tiring couple of months anyway, between staying on the campaign trail and trying to make it back to Washington whenever possible to be there with Sam as she took care of their son and was pregnant with their second child.

After that fateful April evening when she told him she didn't want to wait anymore, they wasted no time in moving forward. Within four months, she had transferred to DC and they were married, and at the time, he thought he couldn't possibly be happier. He was proven wrong a few years later when Sam announced that she was pregnant and Ryan came along. They hadn't discussed the possibility of adding to their family when one evening he came back from a long day in closed sessions to discover Sam ecstatic with the surprise news that she was pregnant and he would be a father once again. It was a complete shock, but certainly not an unwelcome surprise.

The last two months had been particularly hard on them both. He loved that he and Sam decided not to have a long distance marriage like so many of his colleagues, where their wives and families lived back in their home states and they only got to see them the weekends they were able to fly home. But over the Labor Day weekend, Sam went into premature labor and was put on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. And while this was frustrating enough for Sam, it was just as impossible for him to take as she could not travel at all and with the election coming up, the time he spent in Washington was limited. He had been looking forward to the election being over so that he could come back home and spend time with his family again. In fact, when he got the phone call from his mother this afternoon, he had just been telling Anna that very thing.

"You have to come home Martin," his mother had implored desperately. "Sam's in labor and Dr. Breen says she can't stop it this time. Sam asked me not to call you, but honey, her mother and I are just poor substitutes. She needs you."

He needed no further urging. Without a second thought for the campaign schedule, he hopped on the next flight back to Dulles and raced to Georgetown University Hospital. He nearly didn't make it in time, getting in just about an hour before his daughter was born. If something had happened and he hadn't been there, he would never have forgiven himself. He could only count himself fortunate that this was not the case.

"Martin, honey?" his mother appeared at the other end of the hallway, holding his son in her arms.

"Dada!" Ryan exclaimed. The twenty two month old toddler squirmed in his grandmother's arms for a moment, until Lydia placed him down on the ground. Ryan took a few unsteady steps before picking up speed and running towards where Martin stood. "Dada!" he called out again, throwing his arms around Martin's leg. "You're back!"

Martin bent over to pick Ryan up, hoisting the little boy up onto his hip. He kissed his son on the forehead and said, "I'm back. I missed you, buddy."

Ryan nodded, burying his head against Martin's chest. "Missed you," he agreed, his words still running together a bit. He yawned and rubbed his eyes sleepily with a chubby fist.

Martin rubbed the little boy's back. "I love you, Ryan," he whispered softly, kissing the top of his son's head. Over the last few months, he had been running so much that it was easy to forget what was really important to him. Win or lose, the election didn't matter all that much in the grand scheme of things; this did.

xx

Sam inhaled deeply and leaned back against the hospital bed. The light from the television set cast an eerie blue light in the relative darkness of her room.

Her mother and the nurse just left; Irene to go to her other patients and her mother to go find Martin and his family, and make sure he hadn't paced a hole in the floor somewhere. Sam tilted her head, enjoying a few moments of peace and quiet in what had been an entirely hectic day, and she cast a curious glance at the TV screen.

The CNN news ticker ran across with headlines and updates from all of the day's big elections. Analysts went from a big Gubernatorial race in Ohio to a hotly contested Senate seat in Pennsylvania when a headline popped up that caught her eye. She reached for the remote and turned the volume up just in time to see the CNN studio anchor get replaced by footage of Martin talking to his father at a rally and then him rushing to leave a conference hall earlier that day, cell phone glued to his ear.

"_... And New York Senator Martin Fitzgerald left his campaign schedule suddenly at 1:00 this afternoon after learning that his wife went into premature labor back in Washington..."_

The screen flashed back to the studio, but in the top corner of the screen there was a picture of their family taken from a campaign event back in July: Martin holding Ryan on his hip and draping his arm around her. It was a rare event when they actually brought Ryan along, instead choosing to give him as close to a 'normal' life as possible. Ryan was a precocious toddler, always bright and energetic and very verbal for his age, but also sweet and sensitive and Sam wanted to protect him from the media whenever possible. Even at his young age, he reminded her so much of Martin sometimes that it was scary, even down to the little boy's blue eyes and dimples.

"Senator Fitzgerald is immensely popular throughout New York state and was a wide favorite to beat out his challenger Peyton Chandler, but it seems that his sudden campaign departure further enamored him in the hearts of New Yorkers. Exit polls now have him leading in a landslide, and those close to the Chandler campaign have reported that he is attempting to get in touch with Fitzgerald to concede even though the polls just closed an hour ago."

Sam looked up when she heard a gentle knock at the door. It creaked open slowly and Martin's voice carried inside. "Hey stranger," he said. "Can I come in?"

She nodded and motioned with one hand, and he walked quickly over to the bedside, leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips.

"Are you still sore?" he asked, shifting his weight as pulled the wooden hospital chair over to the bedside.

She looked up at him and glared. Her husband may be one of the good men but that didn't prevent him on occasion from being, well, a man.

"Right... sorry," he at least had the decency to look appropriately apologetic. He gave her a lopsided dimpled grin, she can't help but roll her eyes and forgive him. Not that she wouldn't make him pay for that later.

"If I'm remembering this correctly - and I'm pretty sure I am - it's going to be awhile." She exhaled softly and remembered holding her tiny, tiny daughter in her arms, knowing without a doubt that it had been worth it. Just as she had known with Ryan.

Both of their children had come as a bit of a surprise. Just after celebrating their first wedding anniversary, she was a week late with her period. They had talked about starting a family but had no plans to do so at the time. The Saturday morning she planned on telling Martin and taking a pregnancy test, she woke up with a start and knew that she was bleeding; he awoke about half an hour later to find her crying in the bathroom. A few long and very emotional conversations later, they decided to start trying for a family, but it did not come easily. After trying for about a year, they decided together that the constant tension of trying to conceive was putting too much stress on their relationship and they would just take a step back for a few months before considering their next options. Sure enough just as they decided to stop trying for a little while, Ryan decided that he was on his way.

With all the trouble they had conceiving Ryan, Sam hadn't even considered trying for a second child until she realized that she was pregnant again. Her second pregnancy was far more difficult than her first, between Martin's campaign and having to spend two months at bed rest. Recently whenever she talked to her old team members, they always joked that they got to see Martin far more than they ever got to see her.

That had been the hardest thing about moving to DC, moving away from the team she loved, the people who had become her family. She did manage to kept in touch and they were all doing very well: not long after she moved away Jack gave up his SAC position to run a team in White Collar that would give him better hours, and his entire focus became being a better father to Hanna and Kate; Viv took over the team when Jack transferred out and was thriving in her new role; Danny finally managed to break down Naomi's strong defenses, and they had been together now since that same weekend she and Martin got engaged. It took Danny another four years to convince Naomi to marry him, but Danny was nothing if not persistent and stubborn, and he refused to admit defeat. They had been married in a small, private ceremony over Memorial Day weekend where she had doubled as both best man and matron of honor, and Sam couldn't be happier that her two best friends had found each other.

Something on the TV caught her eye, and she clicked the remote control, turning the volume up. "Hey, isn't that your dad is giving your acceptance speech?"

"_... and now live coverage from campaign headquarters in New York City, Senator Martin Fitzgerald's father, well known in his own right as the Deputy Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, will be giving the acceptance speech on behalf of his son..."_

On the screen, Victor Fitzgerald stepped up to the microphone on the center of the stage looking as usual very official and dignified. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of New York," he started, coughing once to clear his throat. "On behalf of my son Martin, I would like to extend his thanks in this great vote of confidence that you have given him. I know that he will continue to work diligently for each and every one of you for the next six years and beyond." Victor paused, casting a meaningful glance around the packed auditorium, filled with supporters and balloons and streamers and celebratory banners. "I know he's sorry that he can't be here with you all tonight, but on behalf of our entire family, we would like to thank you for all of your messages of care and support. I just talked to my wife about an hour ago, and we are all proud to announce that Claire Isabelle Fitzgerald was born at 6:55 this evening. Both mother and daughter are doing just fine, and the doctors don't expect there to be any complications. I'm going to keep this short because I want to get back to Washington to meet my newest granddaughter, but once again on behalf of Martin and my entire family: thank you and good night, New York."

The screen switched back to the studio where they had moved on to discussing the Ohio Gubernatorial race (which was still too close to call), and Martin took the remote control from Sam and clicked the television off.

Sam tilted her head to one side. "So there it is," she said. "It looks like you're still gainfully employed."

Martin nodded, reaching out to take her hand in his. They sat there in a total satisfied silence, both contemplating the events of the day and the way that their lives had instantly become that much more complete.

Just a short while later, there was another knock at the door and Lydia Fitzgerald appeared in the doorway. "Is this a bad time?" Lydia asked, her voice just above a whisper. "Because I have someone right here who would very much like to see you."

Sam smiled back at her mother-in-law, seeing Ryan's brown hair poking out from behind his grandmother. "Come on in, sweetheart," she said, anxious to see at least one of her babies that evening.

"Mama!" Ryan emerged from behind his grandmother's legs and bounded quickly towards the bed.

"Now, you remember what we talked about before. Right Ryan?" Martin bent down and hoisted the toddler up to Sam's bedside.

Ryan nodded solemnly. "Gentle," he said.

"That's right," Martin affirmed. "You don't want to hurt Mommy."

Ryan leaned over the bed to hug her and asked, "When are we going back home, Mommy?"

Sam chewed on her lower lip, considering how best to handle this. "You're going to go home to Grandma and Grandpa's tonight. Nana and Papa will be there too, so it will be a big party. I'll come home to you tomorrow, okay?"

Ryan nodded, thinking hard for a minute before he asked, "What about Winston?"

Sam looked up at Martin and bit back a laugh. The way her child's mind worked constantly amazed her, that Ryan would suddenly think of the golden retriever that had been Sam's anniversary present to Martin the year that Ryan had been born. Martin looked down and met Ryan's eyes. "I'm going to go home and make sure everything is ready to bring your sister home, so I'll check on him."

Satisfied with that answer, Ryan nodded and yawned, stretching his chubby arms out.

Lydia quickly gathered Ryan in her arms and said she was going to take him back home and put him to bed. She left with a wink and a knowing smile, reminding them both to get a full night's sleep tonight because it would be the last one they got for awhile.

When they were alone again, Martin lowered the bedrail and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. He took her hands in his and said, "So what do you think, Mom? Are we ready to do this all over again?"

Sam tilted her head to the side and looked into his eyes. She thought about how far she had come since that day long ago when she and Martin had first met, and she knew her answer without a shadow of a doubt.

"Very ready," she breathed. "We can take anything they throw at us."

xxxxx

Fin. End notes to follow.


	68. End Notes

End Notes:

So there you have it. It took me a long, long time to finish but I did it.

I want to thank each and every one of you who have read this story, and especially all of you who have left me comments, either at Destined, via email or PM, or on FFN. This story held a lot of firsts for me and it is so completely different from any other fic I've ever written in the past, so I can't tell you how much your comments meant to me. There are a few people in particular that I want to mention here: specialfrog, Mafer, Bright Eyes, Broni, and cludwig. You guys have pretty much been following this story since I first started posting it, and sometimes I read your comments and I feel like I have my own personal cheerleading section. So thank you. You ladies are stars :)

I also owe Greer, Mafer and Claire very special thanks here because they listen to me bitch and whine and complain about my writer's block when I need to vent. Greer, in particular, got an earful about several chapters -- the very latest being several crises that came up as I was putting the finishing touches on the epilogue.

It's still hard for me to believe that I actually managed to finish this off (it's funny to look back on my very first outline that had me finishing this up in under thirty chapters)... I know that several of you had some requests to see the proposal, but I couldn't quite fit it in with how I wanted to write the epilogue. I've had the final scene from the last two chapters, as well as the general idea/premise for the epilogue, planned since before I even started writing this fic. It was the entire reason I chose to set the scenario up the way that I did, and I didn't want to go back on that plan. I promise I will include your proposal, as well as elaborate on a lot of what I've introduced in the epilogue, somewhere in the sequel, but that won't be coming up for a little while now. My next projects involve getting back to work on In Repair and Inside These Walls, along with a few shorter pet projects before I get involved with my next new epic. I'm shooting to finish off all my other projects by the end of winter, so hopefully I'll be ready to start up the sequel by next spring before I gear up to move and start grad school.

Anyway thank you all once again. Whether you left me one quick message or you were here for every single chapter, your encouragement has meant a great deal to me. Thanks for being here. I hope you've enjoyed reading this half as much as I enjoyed creating this universe and writing it out.

xx,  
spyglass/inelastic


End file.
